DON'T READ
by DevilsCourt
Summary: im having the robot on here read my story to me to work out any grammar kinks
1. Chapter 1

_"He preys on suicidal souls."_

" **They don't want you,** " whispered a sweet voice, spewing rotten peaches and hissing broken promises. " **If they did, why would they beat you so? Maybe you would be better off...** "

 _"Aren't they supposed to go to Hell to repent?"_

 _"I don't think he cares, the snake."_

"I should just die," the young girl sobbed, wrapping herself with her bruised arms, blood leaking from the fresh cuts that joined the scars. She picked up the blade she had been using for almost five years now, raising it again to her wrist, but she stopped.

" **That will be slow. Too slow. Maybe there is another way...** " The young girl could feel nails prick at her neck, shiver dancing down her spine.

 _"He hisses sin in their ears, spoiling their pure souls," the male scoffed, flaring his feathered wings in anger._

Licking his lips, the red-eyed devil left the home, waiting outside for only a moment before hearing a female shriek. A twisted grin fell onto his lips, twisting his handsome face. He vanished in black smoke, his red orbs glowing in the haze before they, too, disappeared.

The black smoke appeared again in a throne-room, the devil stepping out of the mist, his bare feet not making a sound on the marble floor. His chest was exposed, a necklace as black as obsidian swinging the silver dragon charm about softly with each step. His pants were loose, ghosting the top of his feet, the fabric amber in shade. His eyes red as blood, hazed with the pleasure of his meal, the girl's sadness still tingling on his tongue. His hair was a deep shade of red, long and draping down his back. His face was soft, not round nor sharp, giving him a feminine charm.

He raked pale, long fingers through his fiery strands, approaching the throne with the grace of a thousand dancers, eyes hooded with promise. He climbed the shallow steps, eager to reach his master.

 _"He's a dog to Lucifer, I hear," another whispered, the name coiling fear in their souls. "One of his generals."_

" **How was your hunt?** "

"Successful," he breathed, kneeling between his master's legs, nuzzling his knee. "I hope I wasn't too long, my Lord."

 _"Didn't the Father seal him in the Red Sea when his messenger delivered his people?"_

" **Not at all. Normally, you toy with your prey much longer,** " he rumbled, running his fingers through his servant's hair, never catching on a snag. A low rumble of appreciation left the general's throat, leaning into the touch. " **I love the blood red of your eyes after a kill.** "

 _"The Morning Star always did threaten his return. Maybe we should have taken more heed."_

Gazing upon his lord and master, a shiver raced its way down his spine. The man's black, shoulder-length hair was swept behind pointed ears, his red eyes closed, for now. A stubble marked his chin, only accenting his strong jaw. His black robes seemed to be an endless abyss, losing his pale skin under the dark fabric. Gold bands decorated his wrists, rings of solid white gold bore no gems, but shined in the light. One hand was in his servant's hair, combing it fondly, the other in a fist supporting his head, his elbow propped on the armrest of his throne.

"Ah, but you like them gold as well," the man at his feet teased, feeling his master tug on the small hoop in his ear in light reprimand. The gold should already be seeping through in a small ring around his pupil by now, the thrill of his hunt leaving his system.

Claws scraped across the floor, nearing the two beings. The guards posted shivered as muscle flexed under skin and fur, paws that could crush flexing against the marble. The three-headed Rottweiler growled softly, laying at the foot of the throne. The younger devil chuckled, leaning his head against his master's thigh.

" **Abezethibou** {A-bez-e-th-i-bo}," his king called, making him glance up, " **how long has it been since your sleep?** "

"What an odd question, my Lord. It was after I fell into the Red Sea," he hummed in remembrance, his shoulder shifting and skin ripping to flare his one red wing, the leathery appendage ripped along its bottom where weapons of light have torn it in his fall from Heaven. "And that was the 8th century, before Christ."

" **So long for my general to be away,** " Lucifer sighed, his fingers never resting in their task. " **The abyss has been calling for you.** " His red orbs opened wide enough to gaze at his general, his human mask fading in the comfort of his home.

Horns twisted back, only curving slightly to be parallel to his skull, a few red strands rebelliously going in between the two pillars of bone. Pale skin was taking on a red hue, as if it had bled from his eyes to cover his skin, leaving his irises a molten gold. His one wing rested on his master's leg, draping to the floor. His flesh melted off his right side, leaving bones where his arm and chest would be, his insides only a dark void of nothingness. His right cheek vanished with it, his jaw, teeth, and lower cheekbone exposed to the air, his sharp canines and tongue visible.

" **I enjoy your company much more in this form,** " the Morning Star rumbled, catching pools of gold as they opened. His right sclera had bled into black, framing his molten irises.

"If only our once-brothers hadn't tried to _catch_ me," Abezethibou growled, old anger swimming in his veins, "We could fly together again, my Lord."

" **They thought they knew best,** " his master countered, his fingers never stopping their petting. " **They always have,** **Abismo** {Ab-is-mo, Spanish for abyss}." He purred at his pet name, one that had rolled off his lord's tongue like a wet dream one day and it had stuck. Only his master called him that, the others referring him by his moniker of the Abyssal General. A black cloud of ash twirled in the air with the noise, coming out the hole in his flesh on his face.

"Are you in need of me, my Lord?" Abismo questioned, eyes flickering closed once more in bliss as his master continued his petting.

" **Yes, I am,** " Lucifer confirmed, but his servant didn't open his eyes to look at him. " **The Princes of Seraphim have asked to meet with us.** "

Abismo scoffed, heat in his eyes. "That sea snake and fanged abomination can resolve their own problems," he hissed, eyes narrowing. "What would Envy and Lust argue about that they would have to summon you?"

" **I do not know,** **Abismo** **,** " his king spoke, his petting stopping for only a second before resuming.

"We should have fed those two to Cerberus." At his name, the three-headed Rottweiler raised one of its heads, looking at him. Finding no order, he simply laid down again. "Fish for dinner my Lord?" Abezethibou smirked, cracking an eye open to gauge his lord's reaction. Lucifer chuckled, a deep sound coming from the middle of his chest.

" **With the headache I feel approaching, I think we just might,** " Lucifer laughed, not reacting to the nip on his thigh from his follower. Continuing his petting, the High Prince of Hell let his eyes close, a calm smile on his face. A knock echoed through the hall, the guards quick to answer.

"My Lord," one of the soldiers called, not getting a reaction from the Morning Star, "Princes Leviathan and Asmodeus have arrived."

" **Let them in.** " The doors swung wide, two figures strutted in like pampered peacocks. One was a woman, dressed in the most revealing outfit she could find to reveal her milky skin. Only covering her almost non-existent breasts and nether regions was sea-foam green cloth, the Abyssal General never calling them garments. Sky blue silks hung around her frame, drawing attention to her nonexistent curves. Her eyes were pitch black, her hair the same sky blue as her silks.

The other was a beast of a man, gorgeous despite how ugly his demonic form was. His blond hair and electric blue eyes sent any mortal falling to his feet. His tanned skin accenting his strong build and strong jaw. Wrapped around his frame was a black robe, connecting only on one shoulder and showing off his pecks. It looked suspiciously like a toga the Greeks wore.

"How dare you," Leviathan hissed, narrowing her eyes at Abezethibou. "Take such a hideous form in front of the High Prince!"

"I have earned my spot at his feet, guppy," he spat back, watching as her expression turned to rage as he littered his master's thighs in kisses and nips. Asmodeus's eyes hooded, watching the obvious power play with interest.

" **You have not come here to argue,** " Lucifer boomed, silencing all in the room as he opened his blood red eyes to peer at them. " **General?** "

"I apologize, my Lord, for speaking out of turn," he hummed sweetly, nosing his knee. Lucifer turned to the two Princes with a raised brow.

"Asmodeus has been stealing souls from my circle," Envy huffed, crossing her slender arms over her chest.

"They came willingly," Lust defended, waving the demoness away with a hand. "You know the rules. Should their sin change, so does their circle."

" **We all know this,** " Lucifer sighed, removing his hand from Abezethibou's red strands to rub at his temples. The red-haired demon chuckled, crawling into his king's lap to take up the task of working Lucifer's temples with his thumbs.

"You let this harlot crawl over you like a paid whore, brother," Leviathan commented icily, narrowing her eyes at the general. Lucifer only hummed in answer, resting his head on the back of his throne as Abismo worked his magic.

"I think its hot," Asmodeus shrugged, leering at the demon.

" **This is not worth my time,** " Lucifer sighed, eyes closed in irritation. " **You know of this rule, Leviathan. I should not have to deal with such a spat. You two are no better than children arguing over a toy.** "

"But brother-"

"That was your dismissal, Leviathan," Abismo interrupted, continuing to work his master's migraine.

"Why you!" she seethed. "Your nothing but a slave! You should respect your betters, boy!"

The room went dark, the shadows whipping about as the torches went out. Lust had already left, knowing the red demon's wrath first hand. Darkness tied her wrists and ankles, halting her movements. She was helpless as she felt another slither up her leg, her spine, and around her throat just tight enough to send the message. Golden and crimson orbs glimmered in the darkness, the abyss home to the creatures of the Pit.

" **Begone, Sin of Envy,** " she heard Abismo hiss out of the darkness, his voice echoing all around her despite the demoness knowing that he was right in front of her. " **The High Prince has dismissed you.** "

She was let go, and as soon as her last limb was free, she fled. The fires were lit once more by a wave of Lucifer's hand, the guards that guarded the entrance long gone. Abismo was straddling his king, occupying his mouth with his own. A low moan echoed as he replaced his flesh, letting his king aggressively lay claim to his mouth.

They pulled away, the younger demon out of breath. "Look at what you've done to me," he purred, bucking his hips into Abezethibou's, the fiction welcomed by the demon of the abyss.

"She needed to learn her place," Abismo growled, nipping at his lord's throat. He used his own shadows to tie his wrist and hang them, just like his master liked.

" **Such a good boy~** " Lucifer purred. " **I trained you well.** "

"My Prince of Pride," Abezethibou groaned as the Morning Star attacked his neck with his fangs, drawing blood. His clawed hands raked up his side, making the younger demon shiver. Red eyes glittered up at him, promising a night of blood and Hell-worthy sin.

 **0oo00oo0**

Waking in his master's bed alone, Abismo stretched, stomach on the mattress so his wing could flutter open. After hearing a few satisfying pops, the red demon found his garments and made his way toward his lord. He seemed to be in a meeting, another one with the council, it seemed. Growling, he made his way to his own palace.

He decided to take the long way, walking through the hoard of souls to his deep pit. They unconsciously moved aside for him, stuck in their own personal Hells for the sins they committed. He reveled in their pain and drank their sadness. He was still in Pride's circle, but his home was on the edge of both the High Prince's and Sloth's circles.

Hell is said to have different layers for each sin, which is true, but not in the way humans think. All the sins lived on different planes, but they weren't in a stack, but rather side by side. They overlap each other in certain places, and in one of these places, was Tartarus. His beloved pit.

He could feel Sloth probe him as he stepped into the mixed territory, and he let him, but he didn't stop. Sloth's energy stopped its lazy probing, a warm feeling of welcome home settling at the bottom of his belly. He would have to visit his old friend, but for now, he had a palace to raise.

He found the black pit, the smell of darkness and torture filling his keen senses. He let his skin melt away once more, his bones singing back to the abyss of the Pit. His blackened soul called to his kingdom, and he let it pull him into itself. The shadows licked at his skin, welcoming him home after so long.

When he reached the ledge that his castle rested on, for the Pit had no bottom, he sighed. It was black, like the shadows that surrounded it. None of the sparkle that it once had shined. He ran a hand over a pile of gems that were stacked in a corner, black and dull. Rubies, emeralds, nuggets of gold were all black.

He found his throne, one that was untouched by the blackness. Obsidian shone in the torch-light, gold velvet inviting him to sit and relax. Souls of the tortured bubbled at its base, eternal, silent screams calming his raging spirit. He took its invitation, sitting in his throne after thousands of years. The palace shone again, the obsidian of the walls and the white marble of the floors complemented the mounds of gems that sparkled in reds, blues, greens, and yellows. The torches grew brighter, warming his inner sanctum. A deep purple carpet rested flat on the floor, creeping from the door to the first step of the dais his seat rested on. He leaned on his left knuckle, his right side un-fleshed and red wing flared out.

"I'm home."

Spirits of eternal damnation wore shackles around their necks, chains invisible to the naked eye. He called on a chain and, once in his skeletal hand, tugged the soul to him. It groaned, its body made of swirling ash, its face and details not visible.

"Get me something to eat and some strong wine, its time to celebrate my return." He could feel its displeasure, but the soul had been here for a while, so it knew not to argue with its keeper. It went about doing his orders, letting the shadow creatures whisk into existence. Winged creatures fluttered above his head, playing with his hair while serpents slithered ups his legs, hissing for attention.

Blood red marigolds sprouted in empty vases, their pain complementing the hot pink and white of the magnolia's cruelty and despair. The imprisoned spirit arrived with some cheese and grapes, the strong scent of alcohol making him smirk. For the night, he silently celebrated and rested in his own bed, spreading over the black sheets with pleasure.

 **0oo00oo0**

Walking through the sleepy palace, Abismo walked along gray halls until reaching his destination. Instead of a throne, Sloth had a pillowed couch, lazing about over it. His stormy eyes were closed, brown hair falling around him. He had one of his slaves -he was too lazy- steal a pair of light gray sweatpants from the world above them. He was topless, like himself, a brown tail swishing the tough at the end lazily in the air. Horns jutted out of his head on each side, pointing away from his long brown tresses. A thin beard hid his jaw.

Abezethibou had retracted his wing, his flesh replaced, though his horns still curved above his skull, the Prince recognized him when he slid a lazy glance his way.

"Abezethibou, it is good to have you back, Abyssal General." The souls around them cowered, sensing his connection to the never-ending void.

"Belphegor," Abismo greeted in return, "it has indeed been a long time. How are you, friend?"

"Tired, but I suppose that is old news," Belphegor yawned, rolling to lay on his back and stretch. The satisfying pop of bones graced Abismo's ears and he chuckled as he crawled over his old friend.

"Mm, I do think it is, Sloth," he teased, his golden irises shining in mirth. "You have many souls here in your circle, Belphegor."

"Ah, yes," he agreed, closing his eyes again. "Humanity has gotten lazy. With the invention of cars and transportation, I don't even have to tempt people to fall into sin."

"Sad, how humanity has fallen," Abezethibou smirked, playing with the other demon's hair. "Makes our job so easy."

"Your pit has been calling out to you," Belphegor informed, storm grey connecting to molten gold. "It sung your praises as you returned. I could hear it all the way here."

"It was so sad when I got there," Abezethibou sighed, remembering. "Everything had been eaten by the blackness. I've never seen it so bad."

"You were gone for a long time," Belphegor purred, leaning into the petting hand. "How long are you going to stay, friend?"

"I might take a nap with you, then I might visit Beelzebub for some food," Abismo thought out loud, closing his eyes and cuddling the younger sin. "Other than that, I have souls to torment."

"Always the sadist."

"It is my job, after all."

 **0oo00oo0**

After his nap, as he had promised, Abezethibou made his was to Gluttony's territory. He and Beelzebub weren't as close as he was with Belphegor and Lucifer, but they benefited from each other. Shadow fruit was Gluttony's favorite treat, but it only grew in his gardens. In return, he could wander in and out of his territory as long as he didn't cause any problems.

Wandering into the glutton's palace, the smell of freshly cooked food filled his nostrils, inviting him deeper. Arriving at the dining hall, where Beelzebub's main throne was, he was greeted by the castle's resident prince with a wave, the leg of a large bird in his hands.

"Hellwoh, Genroll," Beelzebub smiled, Abezethibou happy he kept his mouth closed.

"Swallow your food, Beelz, before I force it down," he threatened playfully, scolding the younger demon. He swallowed the impossible amount of food in his mouth before repeating.

"Hello, General!"

"Better," Abezethibou nodded, chuckling.

"Did you bring any with you?" His electric blue eyes sparked, short, black hair wild and untamed. He had on a white tee, which was somehow still white, blue jeans and boots. Somehow, he stayed slim, despite how much he ate. He swore that even demonic metabolism wouldn't keep up with him, but here he was.

"No," Abezethibou sighed, holding up his empty hands. "I only just got to my palace. I will send them once I get home."

"Hungry?" he asked, offering the general a seat, who took it.

"It is why I'm here," the red-head chuckled, pushing his long hair behind his shoulders. "That and to say hello. It has been some time."

"Mhm," Beelzebub agreed around a mouth full of bread. Abezethibou rolled his eyes, picking a few things from the line of food that filled the long table. Some exotic cheeses and smoked ham.

"You don't eat enough. You're literally skin and bones," he cackled, his guest sighing.

"You should be the Prince of Bad Puns," Abismo chuckled, rolling his eyes and digging into his food.

 **0oo00oo0**

Warping to his palace gardens, he walked through the silver flowers to the trees, a basket in hand. The fruit in the trees was ripe, having all the time in the world while he was away. The shadow fruit didn't rot, so the trees were full. The souls were not allowed in the gardens, the fruits the one thing that could save them from the Pit. Of course... he had taken precautions.

A tail came from the shadows in the trees, a hooked stinger attached to a thick and powerful tail. Fur covered paws made no noise in the soft earth, a mouth full of fangs glinting in the low torchlight. Tan fur rippled over the muscle, the beast standing on all fours but easily as tall as the 5'11'' devil. Petting its lion mane, Abezethbou smiled at the Manticore.

"Surely you've had your fill," he chuckled, petting its snout. He had befriended the Manticore after he had rescued it in Lucifer's territory. A group of lesser demons had captured it, beating and starving the poor creature. He had killed them all, letting a river as red as the lava flowing through Hell run under his feet. He let the Manticore feast on his oppressors and had followed him home. He had given it the task of protecting the gardens.

It purred, confirming his suspicions. He gathered enough fruit to hill the basket, the black and purple peaches promising sweet things to all that eat them. Nabbing one for himself, he called.

"Raven."

"My Lord?" The man who appeared at his side had long, ebony hair, falling over his black cloak and armor. The man's red eyes were framed by the bird's skull he wore like a helmet, shining in the shadow it cast. He had long, pointed nails that curved, much like the talons of a bird.

Abezethibou motioned to the basket the Manticore had laid by, licking his paws. "Take those to Beelzebub. You know how he is." Raven closed his hand into a fist and put it over his black heart, bowing slightly at the waist.

"As you wish, General." The man was gone in a flurry of feathers, replaced by a four-winged raven, his bone mask fitting on the bird perfectly. The small bird had no problem lifting and carrying the heavy basket of fruit to the Prince's palace, showing off his strength. Petting the Manticore once more, the Abyssal General walked back into the castle, heading for his dungeons. Walk down one of his halls, a hot breath fell on his right shoulder, cold on his left. He smiled as the heads of dragons surrounded him as he walked. He pet the Hydra, the different heads all fighting for his attention.

"Do not fight, Hydra. You will all get petted eventually," Abismo chuckled, smiling softly as he was crowded. "I'm going to the dungeons and you know the rules." The heads all whined but turned a corner to go to the treasury to be comforted by the sparkles of the gems.

Finally making his way down, the Abyssal General made his way to the cellars. This place was more of a torture chamber, different instruments scattered around the room. Breathing deep and shivering at the smell of old blood and never-ending pain.

Ah, he was home.

 **0oo00oo0**

Asmodeus wandered dark halls, looking at the gold and deep purple Abezethibou seemed to fond of. Sniffing the air, he found his scent easily. The place once reeked of the demon, but in his absence, the smell had faded a bit. A shiver raced down his spine, stopping his movements. A draconic snout appeared in his peripheral vision, another staring him down from above and one more to his other side.

The Hydra.

"Hello, there, Hydra," he greeted, but the nine-headed dragon only hissed at him. "You wouldn't happen to know where your master is, do you?" The beast let a deep rumble answer the sin, who smiled. "Can I see him?" The head to his immediate right answered in denial while the rest growled.

"What is the matter, Hydra?"

The dragon seemed to calm with its master's voice but continued to surround the sin with its heads.

"How could you tempt a man like this? It's not fair," Asmodeus whined, still not moving. Many reincarnations of the sins have fallen to the beast.

The man approaching them was openly displaying his demonic side, bone appearing almost painted on his face in the low light. In the darkness of the Pit, of his home, shadows licked at his feet, begging to be used. Blood dribbled from his chin, probably from the severed finger in his teeth, splattered on both flesh and bone. A skeletal hand ran through his crimson hair, his red eyes shining in the lust of torture.

"What brings you here, Lust?" Abismo questioned, calling his Hydra off. He was much older and more powerful than this sin and didn't need the Hydra's help should things get violent.

"I smelled really sexy kinks," he explained, leering and licking his lips, "but I guess it was you playing with your toys. Was hoping to help you ride out that high of yours."

"You're not worth my time," Abezethibou dismissed, turning his back to the sin of lust to walk to his chambers. "I doubt you could satisfy me." Asmodeus appeared in front of him, wrapping his arms around him, leering at the older demon. He pulled the finger from his mouth and licked the blood dripping from the torturer's lips.

"Should I not please, you could feed me to the Hydra," he tempted, pulling the shorter male to him.

"I think that would satisfy me by itself," Abezethibou smirked, slipping passed Asmodeus. Growling low in his throat, Asmodeus followed. "You won't get me, sin," the older swore, swaying his hips, "that, I can promise."

"You seem to throw yourself at the High Prince and there is even a rumor you're screwing with Sloth."

"Lucifer, yes. Belphegor? No. That lazy ass couldn't compare to me," Abismo corrected, sliding his golden eyes to peer at electric blue. His red skin shimmered, taking on a more leathery look. "You know my answer, Asmodeus. Begone."

"This is why I'm hooked, you know. You deny me every time, sparking my interest." A hand slid around him to stroke his side before it was ripped from him. Turning around, smirking deviously as the sin hung from one of the Hydra's nine mouths, the other eight baring their teeth in a snarl.

"I don't think Hydra appreciates you molesting his master," Abezethibou snickered, raising his hand to pet one of the heads. The black scales shimmered, the green eyes of this head closing in bliss.

"My Lord," a deep voice called, "it was delivered safely."

"Thank you, Raven. I expected nothing less from you."

"My Lord, why is Prince Asmodeus hanging from Hydra's mouth?" Raven asked, raising an unseen eyebrow. He seemed to realize what was going on and shook his head. "Your Highness, I fail to see why your defeat at the hands of my master pleasures you."

"This lusty parasite gets off on everything," Abezethibou sighed, continuing to stroke the green-eyed head. A green, poisonous cloud flared from its nostrils as it sighed in happiness. Golden eyes sparked, causing all the creatures in his vicinity to shiver. A light scraping noise filled the hall, coming up from behind the master of the castle.

"Escort our friend to the door, please," Abezethibou requested, the blank face creature never changing. It had no face, skin stretched in a head shape. Its shoulders supported three arms each, all of them holding a twisted blade. His bottom half was only covered by a loincloth, showing of his thin legs that somehow supported his heavy body. The scraping sound had been the metal on the marble, light enough not to scratch the white stones.

Asmodeus shivered. These creatures had no name, only being called Walkers by the ones that feared them. These things were fiends of the Pit, not found anywhere else. The Walker complied, the Hydra dropping his to the floor. Raising his hands in surrender and let the Walker show him out.

Abismo sighed, looking to his messenger and pet. "Come," he addressed, walking back to his throne room, "I think it is time for us to relax for a bit." Instead of heading to his rooms, like he was going to do before getting interrupted, the castle's master headed for the baths. The baths were not preheated, so it was warm at best. The red-eyed Hydra head stuck its snout in the water, its fiery breath heating it. It was too big to fit in the room completely, but one head at a time could.

"Good boy," Abismo praised, getting a purr. It retreated to wait outside, curling up much like a dog. Chuckling, Abismo stripped, letting this loose pants hit the floor with the tug of his thumb. Glancing at his messenger, he smirked. He had taken his cloak off, stretching the four extra limbs on his back. He working on the silver armor, but Abismo's mind sparked with the knowledge that he couldn't take it off completely.

Walking over to Raven, who glanced his way at the pitter-patter of his bare feet on the wet tile. Swaying his hips, he made his way to his loyal servant and undid the straps, letting the metal fall to the ground with a clang.

"You'll dent the metal, Master," Raven scolded, finally out of all his armor, leaving him in a thin, white shirt and pants. His master shrugged, fleshing out his bones once more to feel the water over the fake skin. His wing folded, cracking as it crumbled into ash to leave a black tattoo of the red wing on the devil's back.

"I know what enchantments I put on each piece, Raven. It won't dent by falling on the floor," Abismo corrected, breathing a sigh of bliss as he sunk into the water. Once undressed, Raven stepped into the water, pulling a layer of magic over his wings to keep them dry. Abezethibou had turned to cradle his head in his crossed arms on the edge, his back to the Fallen. With no order, he used the water to wet both his hands and his master's shoulders, using his thumbs to rub the stress out of the muscles.

A moan of appreciation passed red lips, leaning into the hands. Raven chuckled behind him, continuing to work the muscles in his shoulders before lowering along his spine.

"Truly a devil from Heaven," Abismo sighed, moaning again when he untangled another knot.

"That statement is contradictory, Master," Raven chuckled, raising on his hands to brush back his black hair. "Turn for me?" Abismo complied, letting Raven straddle his lap to get closer. He softly pushed his thumbs into the general's throat, moving on and down.

Abismo had rolled his head back, closing his golden eyes, not seeing the mischievous glint in Raven's eyes. Lifting his mask and setting it gently aside, revealing a soft jaw and high cheekbones, he kept his thumbs moving.

Of course... he slipped, rubbing over a nipple. His master groaned, but did not stop him. Moving his fingers to the demon's abs, he gently nipped Abezethibou's throat, but his master made no noise. He would win this game. His hands lowered under the water to Abismo's thighs, teasing his hips but not touching the hard-on rubbing on his own. He continued his nips and licks down Abismo's chest, brushing passed perked nipples with his teeth.

"You're a horrible tease, Raven," Abezethibou complained, moaning as the ravenette's hands came back up to his ribs, leaving red lines where he dragged his nails. Abismo smirked and bucked his hips, Raven gasping against his skin. Putting a nail under Raven's chin to force his head up, his servant's breath caught as molten gold eyes swirled, half-lidded in lust. "Don't keep Master waiting too long."

The blackbird shivered, but complied with a nod. Lavishing his master's neck soft kisses where his dull teeth had broken skin to sooth it as one hand steadied him on a firm but relaxed shoulder, the other trailing its way down his master's fleshed stomach to reach his prize. A low growl of possessiveness left the red demon's throat as his servant's hand curled around the base of his pride. Raven slowly slid his hand firmly from base to tip, the water sloshing with his movements.

Finally connecting their mouths, he was asked to let his master in with a gentle slide of a tongue. Opening obediently, he moaned as a slick and warm tongue felt its way around his mouth expertly, mapping out familiar territory.

"You got a tongue piercing while I was away," Abezethibou chuckled, pulling away and moaning against the ravenette's lips when a thumb swiped at his slit. "Always had a way with your hands."

Raven's red eyes hooded, looking at his master with such lust Abismo though he would burn. He felt a pat on his thigh, and with the rise of an eyebrow, he pushed himself up on the side of the bath. Raven placed himself between his master's thighs, sinking to his knees on the built-in seat of the bath. Nipping and kissing red thighs, he slowly made his prize.

"If there was anything better than your hands," Abismo continued, watching his servant with quickly reddening eyes, "it was that sinful mouth of yours." Raven seemed to ignore him, licking a bold stripe on the underside of his master's cock, the tongue ring rubbing the vain, swirling his tongue on the tip. Abismo made no noise, only watched as his servant swallowed his pride in one, trained go.

The blackbird's tongue swirled and swiped around his master's arousal with ease, letting the length hit the back of his throat as long, red fingers found their way into damp hair, tugging almost painfully to guide his movements. He moaned around the cock in his mouth at the rough treatment, his master's breathy moan in return echoing in the bathroom.

"You like it, don't you, Raven?" Abismo asked, tugging again on his servant's black locks. "Eating my dick like a treat while I pull on these black locks of yours?" The servant shivered, going down to the base once more to rack his teeth gently up the shaft. "Pleasure your master, slave. Swallow all my cum like the dirty bitch you've become." That was the only warning Raven got before his throat was assaulted with salty white. He swallowed every drop before letting his master's still hard cock go with a pop.

"That's a good boy," he praised. "Now come here." Raven got out of the warm water, straddling his master's lap. Abismo licked his fingers, generously coating his fingers as he watched Raven. Red eyes were trained on a black tongue, the demon's own silver ball of a tongue piercing flashing in the artificial light.

Once satisfied that they were nice and wet, he trailed them down the blackbird's spine, careful of the two sets of pitch wings that were flared in anticipation. Chuckling darkly, he bit Raven's shoulder as he inserted a finger to loosen his playmate up. Raven let out a pained gasp, but didn't pull away as his master unlatched his jaw and soothed the bite with a black tongue.

Trailing small lines of red up the ravenette's sides with black nails, Abismo helped himself to Raven's lips once more, swallowing the moans as he added another finger to scissor the muscles of his ass loose. After the third joined, he curled his fingers, Raven gasping and moaning into his shoulder as his pleasure button was pushed with knowing digits.

"Did you say something, Raven?" Abismo teased, continuing his play with the bundle of nerves. Raven merely shivered, another noise of pleasure leaving his lips before a groan of irritation of his displeasure of the loss of his master's fingers. "Don't worry. You'll be writhing when I'm done."

With a swift buck of Abezethibou's hips, he was completely seated inside his servant. His name fell from pale lips in gasps against his neck.

" _Magister_ _quaeso_ _,_ _quaeso_ _..._ [ **Master please, please...** ]" he begged, his tongue slipping. Wiggling his hips on his master's lap, stopping only to gasp when he found just the right spot.

" _Dic_ _mihi_ _servus_ _,_ _quam_ _sit vis._ _Quod_ _jucunditates_ _dominum_ _tuum_ _a_ _te_ _?_ [ **Tell me, slave, what it is you want. What pleasures do you ask of your master?** ]" Abezethibou questioned, purring as long, pale fingers clawed at his scalp.

" _Quaeso_ ," Raven breathed. Abezethibou did just as his servant pleaded, letting the both of them ride out their pleasure together, dirtying themselves all over again. Moans of both pleasure and pain rang through the bath, nails raking skin and hips meeting in time with the pulsing of sin.

After the last shout of his master's name, Raven tried to catch his breath, leaning on his king for support. His wings had curled around them, shielding them in their own world of rapture. There was silence, only broken by deep breaths of air and his master's next words.

"Such a lustful bird, Raven. Look what you've done, getting us all dirty again," Abezethibou scolded lightly, nipping at the black bird's neck. "We should wash up and get ready for rest, my little blackbird. You can stay with me tonight."

Cleaning up once more, he carried his messenger to his chambers. Raven was sleeping, exhausted by both his flight and his master's antics. Abezethibou smiled as he set the male in his obsidian sheets, the red pillows cradling his head. He was wrapped in one of the white bathrobes that the master was fond of, protecting his skin from the cold. He had grabbed his mask, the skull of bone now resting on the ebony stand next to the king-sized bed. It leaned on smoke-grey walls, settled on top of black carpet.

Shelves of books lined one of the walls, the books ranging from Shakespeare's plays to current novels. Raven had collected them while he was away, knowing his master's taste in literature was vast. There was another door leading to a walk-in closet that he rarely went into. There was a stand in the corner who's wood was cased in the pale armor his messenger wore, having appeared there with Abismo's will.

His room was quite bare, he realized, and thought of maybe going to the human world to look for something to fill it in. He joined Raven in the black sheets, cuddling his little black bird close. He quickly started to doze, half asleep as he nuzzled Raven's neck.

" _Roewer_ _,_ _amorem_. [ **Goodnight, love.** ]"

 **0oo00oo0**

Growling low in his throat, the seated sin dismissed his messenger. It seemed the Abyssal General had returned to taunt him. Since his skirmish with Micheal, Abismo has made it his mission to enrage the Sin of Wrath with the remembrance of his defeat.

Now, though, Satan had something to rub in his face. A smirk settled over his lips, baring sharp fangs. Blackened horns were small, curling up from his forehead to hold his curly, brown hair. The same brown curls covered his legs and hips, his hooves clicking on the tile of his throne room as he made his way to the doors. A loincloth of tan was the only thing that hid his decency, the tattoo of a wicked viper curling around his human torso and down his left arm.

Black eyes shined with the victory he seemed to think was already in his hands. The Seven Sins have been asked (bullshit, Satan thought) by the High Prince to come to the Prideful Prince's palace to celebrate his return. Sneering at the thought of celebrating that rat's return churned his stomach.

Using his magic to make his way to the main palace, he found himself just outside the ballroom, chatter coming from the other side. As he opened the doors, he found lesser demons conversing about the general's return, a few of them, both men and women, trying to catch his eyes. The man himself was obediently at his Prince's side. He was fully clothed, surprisingly, in black armor. His skin was red, horns curling back to arch over his skull. A four-winged raven sat on his shoulder plate, its red eyes peeking through the bird's skull that acted as a helm.

Asmodeus, Leviathan, and Belphegor were already there, conversing with the other devils in their human forms. Snacks lined the sides of the ballroom, the Pit's famous shadow fruits sitting in a basket near the end. As he walked in, he was bowed to and welcomes were whispered to the floor.

" **Satan,** " Lucifer called from his chair, lazily waving to his brother. " **Now we only wait on Mammon and Beelzebub. Out of the sins, I would think the two of them would be the first to arrive.** " The general next to him chuckled, his gold eyes flashing with mischief.

"I told the both of them that there would be shadow fruit," he admitted, smirking. "It got them moving. They will be here any minute, my Lord," he promised, looking at the goat-man's short frame. "Out of the fiery pit you were cast into?"

"Free from your water prison?" Satan countered, a grin of triumph showing his fangs.

"At least God himself had to seal me. You were defeated by a mere angel." Satan growled, his anger bubbling in his belly.

"Mah, Mah," Belphegor sighed, walking up to his friend. "So harsh, _General_ _Abyssum_ _Irent_ , [ **Abyss General** ]. He'll blow his top if you don't stop your teasing. We all know how that goes," Sloth reminded, shaking his head, making his long, straight, brown locks swish. The raven on Abezethibou's shoulder squawked at the taller brunette, leaning into his touch when he ran his fingers over his black feathers. "Raven, the _Fidelis Semper_ [ **Ever Faithful** ]. It is good to see you about."

"I will make sure to take it out on your hide, _Rapha_ ***** ," he sneered. Abezethibou prickled at the insult, narrowing his reddening eyes in rage.

"You keep that name off your tongue, Wrath, should you wish to keep it," Abismo growled, but a hand was raised to cut off any more threats.

" **Now, now, brothers. It is a time of welcoming and celebration. Wrath, keep your tongue dull.** **Abismo** **...** "

"Apologizes, my Lord." Lucifer hummed, dismissing the Sin of Wrath. Belphegor sighed, giving the Abyssal General a scolding glare.

"You are much wiser than to anger Wrath, Abezethibou," he scolded, playing with fiery locks as the red cooled into gold in his irises. "Leave such things to wider spaces."

" **I would like my ballroom in one piece,** " Lucifer added, making the general chuckle. Raven nipped at his master's ear with his beak in reprimand, the red-skinned demon waving him off. Cawing once at his master, he fluttered to Lucifer's waiting hand. " **The** _ **Fidelis Semper**_ **. I think it suits him well. Did you know,** **Abismo** **, that this lovely bird was waiting by your throne until you returned to us?** "

"That makes earlier a bit of a reward, now doesn't it, my little blackbird?" Abezethibou grinned, and in a whisk of black ash, his messenger was once again human.

"Master, please," Raven mumbled, his mask hiding his reddened face.

" _Magister_ _quaeso_ _,_ _quaeso_ _..._ " he teased, laughing when the armored messenger stood behind him, heated face to the floor. The two sins in their company chuckled.

"Tease not your guard or surely he will let you die in your next skirmish," Belphegor advised wisely, winking at the flushed male.

"You tease little _Corvus_ [ **Raven** ] so much," Beelzebub laughed, walking up to the four, Mammon having arrived with him but had abandoned Gluttony for the shadow fruit. His obsidian bow and quiver were strapped to his chest, his jeans and white tee switched for slacks and a white button-up.

Mammon was a sort, hook-nosed man. His hair was gray, or what little he had. His tan coat went to his knees and his dark brow trousers feel to mid-calf. Loafers clicked on the tiles, covered his rather large feet. The little goblin, as Asmodeus had dubbed him rightfully, was looking at the basket of fruits with greedy gray eyes.

"They are not all for you, Mammon!" Beelzebub whined, joining his fellow sin before he ate all of his favorite treats. Rolling his eyes, Abezethibou sauntered his way to the basket, picking up one of the ripe fruit before Mammon could snatch it. Taking a generous bite, he walked away to find someone to chat with. Demonesses clung to him, trying to lure him to their bed, but he gently brushed them off. Demons congratulated his return, a few hinting at their attraction to the general, but they, to, were brushed off.

Music started to play, a soft waltz that spun from somewhere unknown. A soft smile crossed the demon's face when he recognized it as one of his favorites. Under the Sky Of Paris, Andre Rieu's version of the waltz. He dismissed his armor, a golden toga of his chosen silk clashing beautifully with his reddened skin, hanging off his shoulders. Vines of silver weaved their way through his crimson locks. A black tongue lashed out to wet his dry lips as the sea of devils parted for one of the sins.

Belphegor strolled up to him, taking his hand and kissing the back of it. Abezethibou chuckled, letting the younger devil lead him to the center of the room. With his left hand on Sloth's shoulder and his right intertwined with his own, the swirled around the ballroom in the ring made of watching demons.

They slid gracefully, and in his ease, Abismo's control slipped. His cheek was eaten away as the song continued, his fingertips turning to bone. Belphegor spun him away, Beelzebub taking his place. The man was now missing his bow and arrows, letting them soar around the ballroom with no hindrance.

Trumpets began to play, and as he listened, Abezethibou realized it was the ten-minute version of the song. He was given away once more, but this time, a tux of pure black and sharp, ruby eyes led him about.

Lucifer grinned as the red skin of his general flaked and only bone was left. A crimson cloak that had trailed down his back when his armor was donned clipped itself to his shoulders, the symbol of Tartarus glimmering in gold on its back. A sun with a five-pointed star in its middle.

They spun and danced until the song reached its end. Lucifer had the younger male supported by his lower back as Abismo arched backward, brushing the tiles with his fingertips. several moments passed by, silence raining through the ballroom. A cheer rushed through the crowd, breaking the heavy silence. Lucifer helped his old friend to his feet, wrapping an arm around a slim waist.

"Thank you," Abezethibou whispered. "It was my favorite. I was forced to watch the world go by in that prison and this was one of the few things I treasured."

" **I know,** " Lucifer confirmed, pulling the red devil closer. " **What kind of lover would I be if I could not offer even the simplest of comforts?** "

"A bad one, I suppose," Abezethibou chuckled, leaving the High Prince's embraced to be hugged from behind by Belphegor.

"Welcome home, Abyssal General."

 **0oo00oo0**

He lounged in his throne, golden toga still flowing loosely on his frame. His eyes were closed, his favorite waltz playing from nowhere in an endless loop. The Hydra lay at his feet, the black-eyed head purring in his lap as he brushed its scales. The rest were dozing around his dais, soothed by the calming music.

Pink roses took the place of Marigolds to reflect on the Abyssal King's perfect happiness as he hummed along to the violins. The music slowed and the roses withered only for wolf's bane, the castles warning of danger catching the king's attention. Golden eyes slid open lazily, his hand never stopping its petting. The silver-eyed head looked up, the others still dozing away until their master called them.

"Glacies [Gla-seas], do not fret," Abismo called, the head coming up to nuzzle the general before laying back down. "Tenebris [Ten-a-bris]," the black-eyed head opened its eyes, "can you see them?" A low rumble left its throat, leaning again into its master's touches. Glacies nipped at another head, its sparkling green eyes startling awake with a growl.

"Don't fight, you two," he ordered lazily, the music once more filling the room. "Venenum [Ven-en-om]." The head laid down again, but opened its mouth to let out a green mist. Abezethibou felt the breath of wind on his cheek, a sphere to protection cleaning the air of poison. The gray-eyed head was peering with one eye, nodding to itself before going back to sleep. Now, Ventus [Ven-tus] knows its master can handle the poison, but why make their master breathe it in at all?

A low purr of appreciation left Abismo's throat, thanking the hydra. Soon, the palace was coated in the green fog, and whatever lesser demon had come into his palace suffered a horrible death. The fog of poison was sucked in by vents on Venenum's neck, clearing the throne room of gas before Ventus sent a gentle wind to dissipate the rest in the castle.

The flowers of warning and caution were once again replaced with pick roses, oleander growing in patches of soft pink and white in a show of the castle's caution.

"I wonder what they were after that drove them to suicide," Abismo mused softly, stroking the long neck of Tenebris. His golden eyes closed once more, a peaceful calm settling around him and his kingdom. The Pit called out in happiness that its king was so pleased. "Everyone knows of my guards, so I truly wonder."

"My Lord," a deep voice called, a whisper to his ear. "It seems as though they were after your relic." Abezethibou hummed, not looking at Raven as he stood beside his throne.

"Suicidal," Abismo chuckled again, the Hydra huffing. It was his only weakness, his relic. He was immortal, forever part of the Pit. Should that relic be destroyed, however, it would take him thousands of years to revive instead of only a couple of months, weeks if lucky. You could never untangle his soul from Tartarus, but you could weaken the bond.

The other sins, unlike him, simply revived if their sin was still being committed on the surface. Nowadays, however, the sins didn't even need to tempt humans into darkness, they fell themselves. So, the sins had get away free cards while he had to guard his.

The assholes.

Abismo thought about it, and Lucifer had kept his halo. It was supposed to be ripped from him, along with his wings, but he had saved the cracked ring of light. His wings, over the years, had grown back, leathery and black, but his halo never recovered.

His wing, though, had never grown back, having to rely on another pair to cross the skies. The thoughts brought him down, but the peaceful air never left.

"My Lord," a gravelly voice called, the opening of the huge doors to the throne room alerting the king of another presence. The little goblin creature approached cautiously, not wanting to anger the seemingly calm general. "A gift, from the High Prince."

Opening his glowing, golden eyes, he watched as Raven took the bundle of flowers, pink and white camellias, from the messenger. Nodding in thanks, Abezethibou gave his returning message.

"Do tell the High prince that he is welcome any time to my castle. The next present he tries to flatter me with can be delivered personally."

The goblin-like creature nodded, but nervousness hung on its frame. The High Prince may not like such direct words. He bowed and skedaddled off, running back to his Prince to relay the message.

 **0oo00oo0**

"Your Highness?" Ruby eyes opened to gaze at the small creature. "Your gift has been delivered."

" **Any sass to relay?** " Lucifer chuckled, making the goblin shiver.

"He would like to make it known that you are welcome in his halls. That, and you should bring the next gift of flatter yourself." The ugly creature flinched, expecting rage from the Prideful Prince, but he only laughed.

" **That sounds like my general. Very good,** " Lucifer dismissed, sending the small thing away. A soft whistle brought his messenger to him, the fire-bird blazing in all its glory. A piece of parchment with his thoughts was given to the phoenix, who flew off.

 **0oo00oo0**

Walking about the mortal world was always exciting. Humans would stare should he forget his charms, their life he could feel slowly drain as the days went by. Some, though not many, carried the taint of Tartarus, soon to become part of his favorite game of who will break first. Gold eyes were now brown, his hair a duller red. His human appearance stuck to his skin like a second layer, uncomfortable and irritating. His silver hoop was still in his ear, a white tee and dark jeans blending him into the human society. He hated sock -loathed them- so a pair of black sandals kept his feet safe from the concrete.

He was not here for window shopping, however. He was here because he was hungry. He was currently following a man who looked quite normal, blue hoodie and jeans, blonde hair. He was good looking as humans go. The smell of the Pit hung on his soul, the innocence of young souls clinging to his breath.

What he was doing, he realized, was Satanism, the stupid practice of worshiping 'the Devil'. This, of course, had stroked Lucifer's dick to full hardness but no one did it anymore. No one believed.

Following the man and making himself hidden from the human as he entered his home was child's play. It was a normal, middle-class home. Couches, a T.V., and whatnot. The man checked the time, smiling down at his phone as he went to his room to change. A pair of slacks and a button up is what he came out with.

If you're going to meet the devil, might as well look nice.

He bared his fangs in a wild grin as he followed the human to his basement. Soundproof... cleaver. The door was shut in front of him but he fazed through it, not bothered by idiotic, human barriers.

A circle was set up, the ancient symbols giving him chills of excitement. This human knew what he was doing. The smell of innocence burned his nose, looking at the wall of beautiful women that lay chained and naked on the floor, huddled together as if to draw strength from each other. An offering, perhaps? This would more than appease Asmodeus, for sure.

" _Antiqui_ _sunt_ _, audient_ _vocem_ _meam_ _._ _Venite_ _,_ _et_ _accipere_ _munus_ _tuum_ _fidelis. Tolle de_ _profundis_ _ambulare_ _inter vivos_ [ **Ancient beings, hear my plea. Come and take the offering your faithful follower gives you. Raise from the depths to walk among the living** ]," he chanted, spilling blood from his palm into the grooves that made the satanic circle. Shivers raced down Abezethibou's spine, calling him.

He could mess with the human a little, right?

Letting his human appearance melt away, the red-skinned demon grew horns and his golden toga hung loosely on his frame. Silver vines crawled over his scalp, his hair brightening to a bloody crimson. Golden eyes lit in excitement and mirth. The symbol lit up, his summons answered. The human's eyes widened, looking at the spot, waiting for something to happen.

Fear spiked through the young women who clung tighter to each other, making his eyes gloss in a high only this could give him.

"My Lord, are you among us?" he spoke to the air, making the demon snort. He looked ridiculous.

" **You summoned me to this plane, explain yourself,** " Abezethibou demanded, power ringing through his words. He wouldn't let the human see him just yet. That would waste the reaction, though the shocked and slightly scared face he was being given now was gold.

"I've come to offer gifts in return for a deal," the human answered, his eyes trying to scan the dimly lit basement. The demon chuckled, a cold snake wrapping around the human's spine.

" **And what deal would that be, mortal? What have you to offer me that is worth my time? The women you have chained or perhaps something a bit more** _ **precious**_ **,** " Abismo purred, hoping to fool the human. His soul was his anyway. Why not have fun while getting it?

"These virgins are merely a gift to thank you for answering my call, my Lord," the human explained, gesturing to the four females with his hand.

" **Mm,** " Abismo hummed, appearing before the 'gifts' in a cloud of ash. " **Perhaps Lust would take advantage of such gorgeous specimens, but I think that the smell of their fear is good enough. Besides, you called me here not for them, but for your desire. So tell me, human, what wish do you want me to fulfill.** " As he spoke, he knelt down to cup one of the girls' cheeks, letting her fear melt away with a brush of his power. The four brushed his skin with their fingers, tasting his skin with their lips.

He turned his head, the human knelled before him. "I ask for no riches nor women to satisfy me, Satan, but only to stand by your side as a faithful follower." Abezethibou clicked his tongue in annoyance.

" **I am not Satan, Sin of Wrath,** " he corrected, leaning against the wall as the chained women continued nipping at his flesh. " **I am** **Abez** **, King of the Pit of Tartarus and torturer of the sinners who had have given away their ticket to Heaven. Do you wish to still serve me, human? If you still wish to stand by my side, then what is it I get out of this deal besides another soul to toy with?** "

A crow appeared on the demon's shoulder, seeming to whisper in a pierced ear. Whatever it had to relay, it made Abezethibou smile fondly, petting the blackbird with two sets of wings. " **You are wasting my time, human.** "

"Were I to stand with you, would it not grant me immortality?" the human questioned, confused. Abezethibou laughed, shooing the women away for him to stand and approach the still kneeling male.

" **Raven,** " the bird perked at what was assumed to be its name, " **Tell Lucifer where to shove his fork and knife, would you? I'm having fun with this. Ah, and do thank Phoenix for the message and that I accept.** " Nodding, the bird left in a whirl of ash, laughter shining in its eyes.

"My Lord?"

" **Mm. You humans are always amusing, no matter how much time has passed. You are offering your freedom and soul to me so you can be at my feet? So be it.** " A leash and collar settled on the man's neck, but when the demon pulled, only the soul followed the lead. The human's eyes widened at the Abyssal General's true appearance.

The skin was decayed on his right side, a wing sprouted from his left shoulder. The demon's right eye was black, a ring of gold shifting in the dark sea. Fangs were bared playfully, the monster fully enjoying the human's fright.

" **This is immortality... welcome to the club.** "

 **0oo00oo0**

Sipping on a red, thick liquid, the King of the Abyss smirked as screams echoed through his dungeon. Raven had been bored lately, so his new toy was given to his ever faithful. He sat there, pillows of rich black supporting him as he watched his servant break the man. He had thrown his toga away for his normal bare-chested state, loose amber pants of silk flowing loosely around long legs.

"I'm sorry!" the man screamed, shivers dancing down the king's spine as his golden eyes glowed red. "I'll be good! I promise! Master, please!"

" **He sounds repentant,** " a low voice called, appearing behind the King of Torture, rest his chin on the shorter man's fleshed shoulder. Abismo turned his head, kissing the side of his Prideful Prince's face.

"He just might be. Raven, come here, love," his master called, answering immediately. His armor was left, forgotten, his white shirt switched for a black one to hide the blood. While his shirt concealed it, his pale skin did not. As his servant kneeled before him, he guided him closer by his jaw, using his black tongue to lap up a few of the splatters that had gotten sprayed by Raven's treasured whip.

He kissed his little blackbird soundly, asking for entrance, which was granted immediately with a low groan. Raven could taste the blood his master had taken to drinking from his victim, the small chalice left on the low table that was next to his pile of pillows. A nip at his neck reminded him of Lucifer's presence.

Letting Raven breathe, his red eyes shifted to the man who hung from the ceiling from his wrists, tears mixing with blood as he gasped for air.

"Come here, pet," Abismo called, letting the man drop slowly to the floor, his knees holding him up when his bindings let his frayed wrists go. "Come here and let me heal your wounds. Raven is cruel with that whip of his. Come, _catulum_ [ **puppy** ]."

The blond, brown-eyed man crawled closer as fast as his pain allowed. Once at his master's feet, he nuzzled the man's fleshed calf, Abismo watching in amusement as Lucifer growled.

"Hush, love," he soothed, pulling the High Prince into a soft kiss. "He's been a good boy, screaming for me. Let me sooth his pain." He trailed his bone fingers down the man's back, the cuts inflicted by Raven's mastery healing to scars. The human nuzzled his leg again in thanks, drawing a smile as cruel as it was beautiful.

" **They call you cruel,** **Abismo** **, but you treat your people as if they were loyal subjects,** " Lucifer chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. Raven had taken to running those oh so talented hands down his torso, using his nails in just the right way.

"If they scream for me, why should I make their life here harder?" he asked, a low moan slipping past his lips as Lucifer attacked his ear with his nips and licks. "Come here, _catulum_ , and receive your praise. I'll send you to your chambers, but I will not forget. Wait for me?" With that and a whisk of magic, the broken male disappeared.

"You two," he breathed, his breath hitching as a tongue ran over his nipple, "are making it very hard to concentrate."

" **That was the plan, beloved,** " the older devil chuckled, running his blunt nails down Abismo's spine, drawing another moan from the man. " **Raven, don't you think your master should be punished? Torturing these poor souls.** " The word seemed to drip sin and promise, making the King of Torture's skin prickle. Ah, he was in for it now...

He soon found himself hooked to the chains his pet was just dangling from, on his knees and his arms raised above him, stripped. Raven kneeled before him, his clothes now gone as he ran his hands up his parted thighs. These two are going to be the death of him.

Lucifer had disappeared, making his red skin crawl. He newly fleshed right side tingled in warning. As raven caught his lips, a whip struck his back, making him groan. It started to bleed, he could feel, but he had already started to heal. A finger swiped up some of the blood, and as Raven moved away from him, the hand fed him his own blood.

Pale fingers gripped his hips, making him look down, but a blindfold wrapped around his head, cutting off his sight. His hearing sharpened to compensate, listening to Lucifer rustle softly behind him as lips and teeth pleasured his skin. A nip at his Adam's apple brought another strike with the whip, the pain mixing with the pleasure. He couldn't take much of this, he mused, they knew all the right buttons.

The warm ball of metal on Raven's tongue made him focus on his servant, allowing Lucifer to sneak in another present, handing it to Raven with a smirk. Blinded, but not ignorant, the red demon paled as something was slipped onto his cock, tightening around the base.

"Please," he begged, hoping fruitlessly for some kind of mercy, "I was so close~."

"Not yet, Master," Raven breathed against his ear, shivers dancing down Abismo's spine. "We're punishing you, remember? Not yet." Raven pulled away from him, leaving him cold and very aroused.

He waited silently, straining to hear anything. Something was pressed against his entrance, making him wiggle. This got him a rough slap on his ass.

" **Be still and know your place,** " Lucifer growled, his voice low and husky.

" _Ita_ _, Dominus_ _meus_ [ **Yes, my Lord** ]," his whispered, quivering as something was pressed inside him, cold and hard. Shifting slightly, he groaned whatever it was hitting that delicious spot inside him.

Then it started to vibrate.

A gasp left his lips, a mouth finding the head of his cock and tongue swiping at it. He pulled at his restraints, wanting to ram that hot mouth down, to pull at long, black strands. Nails raked up his sides as another pair of hands held his hips still.

" _Quaeso_ _, Lucifer,_ _quaeso_ _,_ " he begged, " _eleison_ _!_ _Nimis_ _multum_ _!_ [ **have mercy! Too much!** ]"

" **Too much? For you?** " Lucifer questioned, taking off the blindfold, letting him look at Raven as he bobbed up and down. Lucifer's hand came around him and pushed Raven's head down to his base, making both men moan. Teeth scraped up lightly and a breath was taken through Raven's nose. Abez panted, so close but so far away from bliss. As he watched, he noticed Raven's fingers reaching around, stretching himself and making his throat vibrate around his cock.

" _Nimis_ _multum_ _..._ " he breathed, leaning forward as much as chains let him. Shifting only pushed the toy further against his prostate, his breath catching as muscles strained. Teeth pulled the cock ring off, and as soon as it was loose enough, white liquid hit the back of Raven's throat. He expertly drank every drop, coming back up to kiss his master, making him taste himself on the ravenette's tongue.

Still panting as the vibrator was removed, Abismo kissed his servant back lazily, riding out his high. Raven lifted him into Lucifer's lap, sinking him down on the High Prince's cock. The thrill of the pain from not being prepared thoroughly rocked his system, but not as much as Raven's heat wrapping around him, a soft moan in both ears from both men.

A smirk crossed his lips, heavy breaths huffing into the warming dungeons. " _Is gets_ _melius_ _quam_ _ostende_ _mihi_ [ **Show me how this gets better** ]," Abismo purred, getting a growl from the older demon. Setting a brutal pace, Abismo and Raven moaned their approval, Lucifer making Abismo's hips rock into his servant, not being able to move himself the way he was positioned.

"Is this better, Master?" Raven gasped, breathing into Abez's ear. "Do you like being dominated? Do you like being tied up?"

"Yes, yes, please," he begged, whether to stop the pleasurable torture or for them to continue he didn't know.

"Beg for us, Master. Do you want pain, or do you want us to stop? Will you take some pain to get rewarded?" Raven cooed, shifting his hips.

"Yes! Please, Raven, Lucif-" he was cut off as he gasped. Lucifer stopped his thrusting, Raven wrapped firm fingers around his base to stifle the orgasm that seemed to continue to rush in his veins.

" **Beg for us,** _ **General**_ _ **Abyssum**_ _**Irent**_ **,** " Lucifer commanded, a single, dizzying hit to the man's bundle of nerves drawing out pants and moans.

"Please..." he breathed, pulling on his restraints, "let me cum, please. I'll be good, I promise! I'll scream, just for you, just..." he begged, missing the connecting of eyes from his two lovers as his own red ones were closed in bliss. Lucifer nodded and continued, Raven drawing his hand away from his master to rest on Lucifer's shoulders for some kind of balance.

"So close," Abismo sobbed, something whispering in his mind that they would not let him cum as the promised but let him suffer eternally like this. His own twisted nature was torturing him...

and he loved it.

With a call of both their names, echoed with his own, Raven came first, clenching around his master and causing his own. Lucifer managed two more thrusts until he, too, collapsed against Abezethibou's back. Raven, damn his soul, pulled the demon into a hot kiss, tongues brushing each other and fangs nipping at the tender flesh. His wrists were set free, letting him rest them on the ravenette's shoulders.

Lucifer, the bastard, left them and got dressed, Raven rising to his knees, breaking the kiss and their connection.

"We must get you clean, Master. You're all dirty," Raven scolded lightly, leaving his king in his spot to dress. Dressing the other male, who was swept up by Lucifer, Raven lead them out of the dungeons.

"Luci," Abismo mumbled, snuggling into the elder's chest. A soft chuckle rumbled, mirth shining in red orbs.

" **Do you think we should bathe him first or simply let him rest?** " Lucifer asked the male walking ahead of them.

"Probably let him rest, he'll only drag me into the baths in the morning, so there is no point," Raven sighed. Lucifer laughed, placing the sleeping male on his bed when they entered his room.

" **And why would he do such a thing?** " the High Prince asked, a knowing smirk lifting his lips.

"Retribution," Raven said simply. "He always does." Lucifer watched as a pleasant shiver danced the ravenette's spine.

" **Oh? What could he do that has you in such a daze?** " A brow rose in curiosity.

Red eyes met crimson, a spike of the Fallen's power curling around him, licking pleasantly at his skin and slipping under his clothes.

" **I would stop, blackbird,** " Lucifer warned, tipping his chin up, " **or it is you I will be jumping next.** " The feeling stopped, something of a smug smile on Raven's face.

"As you wish, your Highness," Raven bowed, wanting nothing but to discard his boots and snuggle with his king. "Do you wish for me to see you out?"

" **No, Raven. You look like you need to rest as much as your master,** " Lucifer chuckled, watching a the tension in the blackbird's shoulder loosened as he sat on the edge of the bed. " **Have a good night, Raven. Goodnight, my love,** " he called to the two of them. Raven waved, snuggling under the sheet with his master, too tired to got to his own room.

0oo00oo0

The King stretched, rolling his shoulders and groaning as his back popped. The spot beside him was still warm, but was missing the body that had been next to him all night. Abismo threw off the covers and his legs off the bed. He stood, stretching once more. Content, he made his way to the baths, finding Raven already there. After a bit of retribution, Abismo made his way to where he had sent the soul he had promised praise.

Raven rolled his eyes at his king, but a soft smile graced his face. He shifted, his feathered form using his four wings to glide over Hell's circles with ease. He flew to the High Prince's castle, having a quick minute of playful banter with the phoenix, and went to find Pride. Entering the throne room, he shifted back, raising a brow. Envy was there, seeming to be throwing a fit about something... again.

His Prince noticed him, the boredom sparking to curiosity in crimson orbs.

" **Raven, what brings you, friend?** " Lucifer questioned, cutting off Leviathan it a hand. She turned to glare at him, not that he cared.

"It is of a personal matter, Sire," Raven reported, glancing at the fish-like sin.

" **Leviathan, if you would?** " She huffed, throwing a tantrum like a child as she stormed out.

*In Latin, this name means to be weak, sickly, in the shadow of Hades. It was given to a descendant of Saul in the bible. It's an insult because Satan is saying that he hides behind Lucifer because he is weak.

Marigolds- Pain and grief

Amaryllis/Hippeastrum- forsaken; expectations  
Carnation/Dianthus Caryophyllus (White)- disappointment  
Hyacinth (White)- jealousy  
Lily (Eucharis)- pride; wealth  
Magnolia- Grief; Cruelty; Jealousy; Sacred affection; Despair  
Poppy/Papaver- pleasure  
Oleander- caution, grace, beauty  
Pink Roses- perfect happiness


	2. Powerless

A shiver went down his spine, one of dread and fear. This was something that the elder captain had not felt in a thousand years.

"Captain?" his faithful lieutenant called, a flash of concern in his silver eyes.

"Something is amiss," the old commander commented grimly, rubbing his cane with his thumbs, gaining comfort from the warm wood. "I do not know what, but something is dreadfully wrong."

0oo00oo0

A snake seemed to curl around him, a foreboding that squeezed the air from his lungs. Gray eyes seemed to spark with a primal fear, freezing his limbs long enough to drop the glass mug of tea, letting it shatter on the floor. His loyal friends and companions in exile turned his way, eyes filled with both concern and curiosity, and in the bespectacled man's view, a bit of irritation.

"You alright?" the purple-haired woman asked, walking up to tip his green-striped hat up and brush his sandy locks back, out of his eyes.

"Something's not right."

0oo00oo0

The father of three tilted his head at his oldest, who had stopped eating for a second before his brows furrowed into a deeper scowl than normal.

"Something wrong, son?" he questioned, hoping to get the teen to at least speak to him.

"I dunno," he answered, taking a sip of green tea, "just got the chills is all. Probably nothing." Ah, that was a lie. He depended on his instinct, the thing that had kept him alive. Right now, it was telling him to hide before he was found.

His long, orange hair had grown over the three years that had passed from the Winter War, falling to his mid back. His son's power had all but vanished, leaving him vulnerable... and irritable. He had grown a bit taller, reaching 5'10", catching up to his old man quick. Other than that, nothing much had changed... except for the young eighteen-year-old's attitude.

His son, upon losing his powers, avoided his friends. Locking himself in the house or at Kisuke's for quiet and updates on the world he can no longer see. They had taken to whispered words on the comings and goings of their spiritual friends, hushed on the hollows that orange-haired young adult knows plagues the city of Karakura.

Ichigo hatted it.

"I hope you're not getting sick," the youngest fretted, big, brown eyes fill with motherly concern.

"I'm fine, Yuzu," her brother assured, calming the blond twin. Once dinner was done and the teenager had retreated to his room, the dark-haired, older twin pulled her father aside.

"Did you see that?" she asked, low enough for her twin not to hear. "They were all..."

"Yes, I did," Isshin frowned, pulling out his phone to look at the very short list of contacts. "I've never seen them do that before. I'm going to speak to Urahara about it, see if he knows something."

Walking into his clinic with his phone to his ear, it only rang once before the shopkeeper picked up.

"Did you feel it?"

"Feel what, Kisuke?" Isshin questioned, a single brow raising in question, even if his old friend could not see it.

"I don't know yet," the blond sighed, the sound of rustling in background. "I just got a really bad feeling."

"Ichigo said the same thing, and that's why I called. Something's up with him."

"It's not his power returning," Urahara stated harshly, as if to crush a false hope.

"I know that," Isshin snapped defensibly, "but it's more about the spirits around him. You know how they like to bother Karin now that Ichigo has lost the ability to see them." A hum acknowledged the statement. "They started screaming at Ichigo... and it's what they said that has me uneasy."

"What did they say? Surely nothing a few Plus say can rattle you that bad, Isshin."

"The kept saying he was 'marked', screaming at the top of their lungs that he was going to die." The silence on the other end of the line did nothing to sooth the father's anxiety.

"Has Ichigo mentioned any marks or whatnot? Any kind of tattooing or odd urges to go somewhere?"

"He talks to you more than he does me now-a-days," Isshin sighed, running rough hands through his hair. "He did say he got the chills though and he tensed up like he was ready to run. After the girls go to bed, I'll bring him over and maybe we can figure something out."

"That's as good a plan as any, I suppose. Do you think that he will agree?"

"If he doesn't I'll be hauling him over," the eldest Kurosaki smirked, but it fell quickly. "I just don't want anything to happen," he sighed, running his hand again into his hair to pull lightly on the black strands. "This has got me worried, Kisuke..."

"We'll think of something. I'll be waiting."

"Thanks."

"No problem, Isshin," his old friend confirmed, the click on the other line ending their conversation for now. The Shinigami sighed heavily, making his way back to his home and up the stairs to his son's room. Just as he suspected, Ichigo was sitting on his bed, head braced on his knuckles, elbow supported by the windowsill as chocolate orbs gazed at the sinking sun. He was already in his sleeping clothes of a white t-shirt and gray sweats.

"Ichigo," his father called, but the teen didn't move from his spot, "there's something that has been worrying me and I was hoping you would come with me to Kisuke's to check something out."

"And what would that be?" Ichigo asked, now looking at his father. Isshin held back a flinch at how tired those young eyes looked. They had seen too much.

"Some of the spirits around you have been acting... strangely," his father tried to explain, watching as his son's eyes lit up slightly. "They're saying things that make no sense. I was hoping to have Urahara check you out just to make sure everything's alright." Ichigo nodded, stand up to follow his father down the stairs and out the door.

0oo00oo0

"Isshin, Ichigo! Welcome, welcome. Have a seat and I'll get some t-" he tried, but his bigger employee sat him down, then headed to the kitchen.

"I wouldn't even trust you with a spatula," Ichigo smirked, looking a bit more alive than he had in his room.

"You are always so mean to me, Ichigo!" Kisuke cried out dramatically. "Yoruichi would back me up."

"No, she would tell me that one time she found an octopus tentacle in her cup," Ichigo teased, nodding his thanks to the larger man as Tessai set his cup in front of him. "So, Goat-chin said something's up?"

"Mm," Kisuke hummed, looking at the boy from under his hat. "Have you felt anything lately? Urges to go somewhere or any type of symbol on your skin?"

"No," Ichigo answered slowly, brows furrowing. "I've felt off lately, but that's it."

"Off?"

"I don't know how to explain it," the teen sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's like something's warning me, that something bad is going to happen. I've always trusted my instincts," he stated, looking at the shopkeeper in his analytical gray eyes, "and they've never proven me wrong."

"Indeed. Well, the ghosts have been restless around you lately," his mentor commented, looking around the teen at something he couldn't see. "Now I understand what you mean, Isshin. This is most odd."

"Why?" Ichigo questioned, an old frustration of not being able to see gripping his heart. "What are they doing?

"They've been yelling that you're marked, by what we don't know."

"Cant you ask?" Ichigo questioned, some of his his frustration leaking through his tight hold.

"They wont answer, I've been trying. To them, I suppose, I'm invisible," Isshin scowled, look much more like his son. "I'm surprised you never noticed Kisuke."

"I've never seen it," the exile denied. "This is most odd," he flinched at something, "and loud. How you sleep at night it questionable."

"They randomly disappear," Isshin explained, looking over to his son, eyes wandering around him.

"So, Ichi," Kisuke addressed, catching the orangette's attention, "nothing out of the ordinary? Besides that feeling you got." Ichigo shook his head. "If it's any comfort, I got the feeling as well. So, you're not crazy, at least." He dodged a shoe, grin plastered on his face as he whipped out his trusty white paper fan.

"Maybe its a soul thing?" Isshin tossed up.

"I don't know," Ichigo shrugged, itching at the base of his neck, under his long hair that was being held back by a black tie. "Damn it, I gotta figure out what itches so bad."

The two friends gave each other a look, a thousand words spoken in the few second stretch.

"Let me see, Ichigo," his father prompted, hooking a finger around the loose collar of Ichigo's t-shirt. He flipped the orange tail over his son's shoulder and pulled down the collar so he could see, getting a nasty shock to his system. "Kisuke..." He was over there in a second, eyes widening.

"What the hell is that doing there?" Kisuke demanded, anger and worry seeping through his mask.

"What is it?" Ichigo asked, looking over his shoulder. Isshin pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of it, letting Ichigo turn to see. An orange brow raised, then set into a deep scowl. "The hell?"

The picture was that of a sun in golden ink on his tanned skin, a perfect circle in its middle, a five-pointed star inside.

"That, my student," Kisuke started, looking the boy in the eye, "is the mark of an old demon, one that has been sealed for a very long time. You haven't been getting into things you're not supposed to, have you?"

"Are you trying to say I'm into Satanism?" Ichigo glared, the shopkeeper avoiding his gaze with his fan.

"No, but that would be and explanation. That mark blends well with your skin, and with where it's at, we wouldn't expect you to see it. You said it itches?"

"Yeah," Ichigo confirmed, reaching back to rub it. "Really bad. I tried putting some cream on it but it didn't help."

"Wouldn't expect it to," Isshin sighed, running a hand over his face. "What do you know of demonology, Ichigo?"

"Not much," he admitted.

"Well, that mark there is the symbol of Tartarus, or the 'Pit', most call it. Despite what Soul Society says, Hell is very different from what people think," Kisuke explained, grabbing a pencil and paper from nowhere. "Instead of it being layers, it looks something like this."

He proceeded to draw circles that overlapped each other in small sections, one in the middle and six on the outside.

"This is what it actually looks like. They are still, in themselves, other plains, but they are still connected."

"Like islands," Ichigo theorized, getting a not.

"Islands with bridges that the sinners cant cross." Ichigo looked at the picture again, something clicking in his mind.

"The seven sins," he noticed. Kisuke nodded, writing the sins in their respective bubble.

"Exactly. They all have their own land, but Tartarus, is here." He used the end of his pencil to point at the connecting bridge between Sloth and Pride, Pride being the middle circle.

"So it's a bridge with a big hole under it."

"Well said, my son," Isshin cheered, getting an eye roll.

"So, from what you're saying, demons are real and one that has been sleeping a long time is out to get me... and we don't know why," Ichigo summed up, still analyzing the sheet of paper.

"I've only met the man once," Kisuke explained, drawing all eyes on him. "He is both one of greatest men I've had the pleasure of meeting... and the sickest, most twisted person I've known. Even to this day, and I know Myuri."

"How can he be both at once without having personality disorder?" Ichigo questioned, frown returning.

"I don't know..." Kisuke admitted. "It's just something about him. Let's hope you don't find out."

"So if demons are real..." Ichigo continued, trailing off.

"Angel are as well, but those stuck-up bastards don't come down from their perch," Isshin grumbled, getting a chuckled from his son.

"So I'm being pulled into the spirit world again," Ichigo sighed, but there was a relief there that both adults caught. "How powerful are we talking?"

"He was part of the original devils," Isshin reminded. "In other words..."

"Tear Soul Society to pieces with his pinky," Kisuke finished, seriousness written on his face. "For some reason he has marked you... and we don't know why."

"Tu es ille, et. Si est quod Magister vult [You are the one, then. If it is what Master desires," a deep voice spoke, a figure appearing in a cloud of ash. Silver armor gleamed on his chest and plates of the same metal protected his calves. He had long, black hair that was capped under a large bird's skull. Red eyes shined through the mask, looking at Ichigo as if to peer at his soul. A black cape hung from his shoulders, barely hiding the sword and nasty looking whip at his waist.

"What?" Ichigo spoke first.

"Master Ichigo," the being spoke, fist over his unbeating heart with a light bow, "I have come to collect you. Master is awaiting your presence." His Japanese was flawless, even the accent was perfect. As if he hadn't spoken another, dead, language five seconds ago.

"My son is going nowhere," Isshin growled, soul candy already in hand should he need it.

The man's brow furrowed, barely seen with the skull. "I'm afraid I cannot return without him. I have my ord-" he tilted his head, as if listening to something, Ichigo scowling before he tried cleaning out an ear with his pinky. "Very well. Take as much time as you need, Master Ichigo, and I will escort you home. Master has informed me that this is new to you and may be hesitant to comply."

"How can I see him," Ichigo frowned, "and what was that noise?"

"Noise, Ichigo?"

"A humming. It sounded like really muffled talking."

"Master has tried to connect to you in the past," the man explained, "and so you have a weak connection, but your soul companions made it difficult. Now, Master is strong enough to call to you."

"How long has Abezethibou been awake?" Kisuke asked, not stumbling over the foreign word. Unlike Ichigo, who tried, and failed.

"Since the young master has been alive," the man replied, his gaze going from the shopkeeper to the teen once more. "I have been very rude, Master Ichigo. My Master has taken to calling me Raven. I am messenger and defender of the King of the Pit." He bowed again, fist over his heart. "May I inquire something?"

"Yeah... sure."

"What happened to your soul companions? They seemed to have disappeared," Raven asked, Tipping his head slightly.

"None of your business, demon," Isshin hissed. "Why does Abez want Ichigo?"

"None of your business, Soul Reaper," Raven returned, smirk splitting his face. "I must ask you to not address my master so informally."

"I can't say his damn name!" Isshin complained. "It's all weird." Ichigo stood, staring down the blackbird in front of him.

"Can I ask, then? What's up with all this?" Ichigo questioned, brows furrowing in annoyance.

"That is for master to tell, young Master," Raven replied. "I am afraid I cannot give that information away."

"Why don't we take this downstairs?" Kisuke offered, leading them all to the basement. The fake sky and sandy bottom was the same as it always was. "So, no info from you then. Can we question your master, then?"

"Kisuke," Isshin hissed. "You cant think of bringing the man here."

"No, no, oh God, no," Kisuke denied hurriedly, "but it does seem out friend here can speak to the Lord of Torment."

Raven nodded. Tilting his head to listen, he then turn to Ichigo. "Master has instructed me to inform you on what the bond between the two of you will consist of so you may ask in 'person', so to say."

"There will be no bond," Isshin grumbled, only to get a dark look from his son.

"You," he pointed at his father, "need to chill. You," he pointed to his old mentor, "need to stop staring at me before I kill you, and you," he turned to Raven, who looked startled, "need to start talking. I'm not agreeing to anything unless I know all the facts."

"Understandable," Raven accepted, nodding. "Have been informed of the Seven Seraph Princes?"

"Seven Ser- the seven sins? I know what they are, but I'm getting the vibe you mean actual people."

"They are, indeed, demon princes personifying their respective sin. Lucifer, Sin of Pride, is the High Prince among us. The only title of King among them is my own master's title over Tartarus."

"They all have circles they rule over, right?"

"This is, indeed, correct."

"Are you a sin?" Ichigo questioned, confusion shining in his eyes.

"No, not even close," he chuckled. "I am a Fallen my master had rescued long ago."

"Do you have wings?" Ichigo asked, a childish curiosity shining through. Raven chuckled, nodding as two sets of blackened feathers sprouted from his back, pushing his cape back. They seemed unhindered by the armor, more than likely having a piece cut out to make room. Ichigo looked in awe, walking up to the man, both the warriors behind him tensing. "Can I touch them?"

Raven moved one forward, curling around his right side as if to protect him. "You may," he allowed, grinning at his new master's innocence. Ichigo smoothed out some of the feathers, them having been ruffled from his flight here, no doubt. They were soft, much softer than Ichigo expected.

"Back to the topic," Raven reminded, his winds folding into his back once more, making Ichigo pout and sit in the sand. Raven joined him, the two men loosening as they continued standing. "Each of these sins had chosen a champion, should they be needed. You have encroached on Hell once," Raven reminded, Ichigo having the sense to looked ashamed. "You had dropped into Greed's territory, the sinners there rebelling for their freedom. You stopped this, thankfully, but did catch many eyes."

"Yeah, didn't mean that," Ichigo apologized, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "They had my sister."

"We understand," Raven assured. "Master himself was going to step in should it haven gotten to bad. The rebellious now lie in the Pit with my master. Many of the sins argued over you, but Master had already set a connection to you, shutting them all up," Raven smirked.

"My master, despite what some may say," red eyes shifted to the two adults, "is normally a calm and understanding man. I have a connection to him, as you have seen, but it is not as strong as the one he is trying to create with you. Beyond telepathy, my master's bond creates a connection to the shadows, Master's domain. Should you accept, there is much power to gain from this. However," Raven paused, watching Ichigo's face fall behind the black mask he had put up, "Master suffers from the voices of the Pit, and you, too, will hear their cries. Master has blocked them from me, despite my willingness.

"You must learn to block them out. To let them play behind your thoughts. This bond will also tie you to Tartarus, along with the creatures in it. They will not follow a weak soul, so you must be confident." Ichigo nodded, showing he was listening. "Beyond that, I do not know what may happen. Each champion has reacted differently to a bonding. With one of the the Princes, for instance, the urge to commit their particular sin increases."

"Do you think," Ichigo started, biting his lower lip, "it could reawaken my own power?" Raven thought this over, looking the teen over. A clawed hand came to rest on his chest, the ravenette tilting his head in question.

"You may, you may not," Raven answered, pulling his hand away. "I can feel them, buried behind confusion and despair. They are simply weak at the moment, and maybe, just maybe the bond will strengthen them. The opposite may be also true," he warned. "It could completely crush them."

Ichigo gulped, rubbing the mark at the base of his neck. Was he willing to commit to this.

"What do champions do, specifically?"

Raven nodded, "good question, young Master. You see, there is a time when the demon princes must rest, if only for short periods of time. They are completely vulnerable then, and that is where these champions come into play. They guard from intruders and should they be needed to do so, participate in wartime. Fret not, there hasn't been a war since Master's early days."

"Will I be able to come back?" Ichigo questioned, the thought of leaving his sisters causing his scowl to deepen.

"Yes," Raven nodded, looking to the older Kurosaki. "There is a fruit only grown in Master's castle that allows souls to be removed from the Pit. Master created it for this purpose. Should you wish to return at any time, you are more than able to. Now, this means you will be called back and kept in the two previous events I mentioned."

Ichigo nodded, his head swimming with the amount of knowledge that had just poofed into existence a little too fast. He weighed pros and cons, his soul having already made up his mind. Brown orbs shifted over the figure in front of him, and something inside of him, his instinct, told him this man was telling the truth. That he belonged somewhere else. He had thought the feeling was connected to S.S. ... but that might not be the case anymore.

"Ichigo," his father called, gaining his attention. "I know this is your decision, but remember who we are talking to. Demons are not the most righteous of creatures."

"Neither are Shinigami," Ichigo countered, a few names popping into his head. He turned back to Raven. "This is only from the bond, right? I don't have leave now, do I?"

"While that is what I am hoping for, it is your choice to stay or go," he answered.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Kisuke asked, speaking from his spot on a rock.

"The air here is very thin," Raven explained. "I would much rather be home, where the air is thicker and much easier to breathe."

"I've heard that from a few people," Ichigo chuckled. He rubbed the base of his neck again, eyes closing in thought. He sat there silently for what felt like hours before coming to a decision. "I'll do it."

Raven nodded, eyes closing and head tilting to hear. "Concentrate, Master Ichigo, on his call. It may be painful, but as I've said, it reacts differently to each person." Ichigo nodded, relaxing and closing his eyes. He waited, but not for long.

A spark lit up somewhere deep in his soul, and he caught it and fueled it as much as possible. He gasped, the wind kicked out of him as shivers raced across his skin. Arms wrapped around him, the smell of blood and peaches calming his nerves. Armor pressed firmly to his back, black wings spreading to encase them, giving him protection.

"Calm, Ichigo," Raven spoke, pulling him closer and into his lap. "Does it hurt?"

He was going to speak, but no air could reach his lungs. He felt like he was drowning, unable to breathe as he sunk to the bottom.

"Mitescere, maiori [Calm down, young one," Raven spoke into his ear, and even though it was in that strange language, he understood. "Obruent illam si keep pugnam Tartari. Et ossa tua est excipiant [Tartarus will drown if you keep fighting it. Let is seep into your bones]." He whispered calming words, stroking his long hair.

Ichigo's breath hitched, opening his eyes to look at Raven, who was calm and still whispering calming words. He had taken his helm off, red eyes blazing fiercely in the darkness his wings created.

Calm down.

He found himself obeying, his heart rate slowing and his breath evening out. He closed his eyes once more and just let the feeling of water rush over his skin, pulling him deeper, but he didn't fight for air. It only took a few seconds, but he was able to breathe again. Taking big gulps of air in solid pants, he reached up to cling to the side of Raven's neck, trying to ground himself.

The ravenette had an arm around him, another running through his hair. He had loosened the tie, setting the strands of orange flame free. He was still cooing, trying to get the teen stable in his arms. Voices were muffled outside the protective shield of feathers, it sounded like his father.

Ichigo got his breath steady, feeling so free and whole once more. Nodding to Raven, who had his mask back on, but making no move to get up, Ichigo closed his eyes as light blinded him. It felt brighter, almost harsher, than before.

"We dwell in the dark, young one, and so the lights blind us. Do not worry, you will get used to them," Raven assured, a hand resting on his eyes to block out the light. "Shopkeeper, could you turn off the lights?"

"Why would you need that?" he heard Kisuke ask, pulling out a remote and lowering the lights.

"You can look now, Ichigo."

Brown eyes opened as pale fingers slipped of his face, letting him look about. He could tell it was dark in the room, the warmth from the light not hitting his skin, but he could see just fine. Isshin looked worried, Urahara looked curious.

"I'm fine," Ichigo assured, letting Raven help him up only to help him in turn. "More than fine, actually. I feel a lot better." He rolled his shoulder, feeling way too energetic for how late it was.

"Your power, Ichigo?"

He panicked slightly, reaching deep in his soul for the two companions he lost to a madman.

'We are with you, Ichigo.'

'Can't get rid of us that easy! '

Ichigo burst into tears, falling to his knees as he hugged his chest. Isshin and Kisuke were at his side immediately, Raven hanging back with a soft smile on his face.

"Son? Ichigo? What's wrong?" Isshin fired off, wiping his son's tears. Ichigo's smile lit up the room, true happiness swirling in his newly found power.

"Zangetsu... I have them both back."

"Good for you, Ichigo," Kisuke smiled down at him, looking then to the Fallen messenger. "What now?"

"I am supposed to take the young master to the palace, but I have been ordered to let him adjust for as long as he needs. The return of the rest of his soul is a shock to his system and in turn has made him emotionally unstable. He can take as long as he needs to sort his thoughts."

"Thank you," Ichigo called to Raven, the tears having stopped but there was still a light hitch in his breath. "Thank you for giving them back to me."

"Do not thank me, young Master, but our master. He is the one that has given you back what your soul yearned for. I must remind you of the consequences that came with this might," Raven warned, peering at him through the eye sockets of his helm.

"I don't hear anything," Ichigo informed, tilting his head much like Raven did to listen.

'They are here, Ichigo. They are rather loud.'

'And fuckin' annoyin'. Don' worry though, we got 'em until you meet this 'master' o' ours. He should be able to help with 'em.'

Ichigo nodded, looking at the Fallen. "Shiro and Ossan Zangetsu said they are holding them back for me until we go with you so that Abezeth- Abezethi- damn it. So that Abez can help us with them." Raven nodded in acceptance.

"Will you be staying here with us until he decides to go?" Kisuke asked, looking the other male with a calculating gaze.

"It depends," Raven shrugged. "I shall stay to support Master Ichigo should he need me, but if Master calls..."

"We understand," Ichigo nodded, "but where will you stay? I don't have much room and I doubt you wanna stay with this loon." Ichigo threw a thumb Kisuke's way, getting a playfully offended look from the shopkeeper.

"I do not need much room," he stated, ash swirled around him, hiding his form. As it dissipated, though, all three men blinked in amazement. He had been replaced with a four-winged bird. A raven. Ichigo tried to hold in a chuckle, only succeeding by the skin of his teeth. The bird narrowed red eyes under the birds skull that sat perfectly on his head. It had shrunk, much to their amazement.

Raven lifted off of the ground, landing on Ichigo's shoulder.

"With me, then?" the orangette asked, getting a nod and a hesitant look to both of the older males.

"Fine with us, I suppose," Kisuke agreed, but Isshin was more hesitant. Flashing a look to his old friend, who immediately understood and nodded, Isshin simply sighed.

"Fine, but no funny business," the older Kurosaki warned. "I got two little girls at home who don't need to be pulled into this mess." The blackbird nodded again, looking at Ichigo.

'I won't be seen by the twins. I will make sure to cloak myself.'

After not freaking out and figuring it was telepathy, Ichigo relayed the message. Isshin nodded in approval, still giving the Fallen an distrusting glance.

0oo00oo0

When they made it home, it was already eleven at night, but Ichigo couldn't sleep. He couldn't sit still. He only tossed and turn until finally giving up and sitting on his bed.

'You could try going into your spirit form,' Raven offered, the blackbird nesting in a blanket Ichigo had pulled out. Currently, he was laying on Ichigo's desk.

"Wouldn't Soul Society find me? I've never been good at hiding my spiritual pressure," Ichigo questioned, brows furrowing.

'How do you think they haven't found us yet? You do indeed leak like a faucet, and that will have to be fixed. Here.' Raven picked something from his feathers, something silver in his beak when he offered it to Ichigo.

"Did that just..."

'It was in my cloak,' Raven deadpanned. 'Put it on.' Ichigo picked up the trinket, a chain coming with the charm. It was a silver Chinese dragon, a mane of amber and eye of topaz giving it color. It put it on, not feeling any different. 'This will cloak you from others and will not limit your power, but you cannot sense those around you.'

"That's fine, was never good at it," Ichigo admitted sheepishly.

'And that, too, will change. Why has your mentors never taught you this skill?'

"I just had too much power," Ichigo explained, rubbing his neck. "I couldn't contain it without blowing myself up. That, and I just wasn't good at it. There was too much to grab." The blackbird nodded in understanding. Ichigo moved to his desk, pulling out his combat pass.

He couldn't get rid of it, no matter how much pain it sent through his heart. A reminder of what he gained and lost. He ran a thumb over the worn wood, the skull staring at him with empty eyes.

'You are aware that that pass is tracing and listening to you, correct?'

"Yeah," Ichigo confirmed, "but I trusted them enough to keep it." He practically heard Raven roll his eyes. He never knew such a sassy bird. "Here goes nothing."

He pressed the pass to his chest, a surge of energy flowing through his veins, giving him the rush he craved. A black Shikakusho wrapped around his frame, brushing gently along his tan skin. The heavy feeling of Zangetsu resting on his back making his soul cry out. The heavy thump of his body hitting the floor woke him from his trance, making him look back.

Sighing and grumbling, he threw himself- he would forever be weirded out but had come to accept it- on his bed. Lifting his window, letting the breeze hit his face before he jumped out, the blackbird following gracefully.

Laughing softly, he made a platform under his feet before he speed off in a flash step, Raven keeping up easily. The wind rushed past him, chilling his bones. The power at his fingertips rushed to be released. Something shimmered into existence next to him, the white blur passing him to jog in front of him, a blue tongue stuck out teasingly.

"Catch me if you can, Kingy!"

Ichigo smirked, speeding up to catch his white doppelganger. Raven caught up to Shirosaki and landed on his shoulder, amused at the two's antics. Gold on black eyes glanced his way, a playful spark dulled by the pure gratitude in the Hollow's eyes. The raven nodded and the game of tag continued.

"Your it!" called a female voice, one Ichigo immediately recognized.

"No one gave you permission to play, Kitty-sensei!" Shiro yelled in both irritation and laughter.

"I invited myself," Yoruichi grinned, dashing away when Shiro tried to get her. Ichigo paused in horror when his twin looked at him, a twisted grin on his lips.

"Oh King~"

"Nope."

Ichigo took off, a white blur tackling him to the rooftop. A grunt and a sigh of defeat echoed from below Shiro, his smirk getting bigger along with his ego.

"You suck at this game, Ichigo," Yoruichi laughed, appearing next to them, a bird landing on her shoulder. She turned to look at it and smiled. "You must be Raven. Thanks for my playmate back."

'It was of no consequence.'

"He said no problem," Ichigo relayed, shoving Shiro off of him and standing to brush himself off. "God, that felt good. I haven't felt my muscles burn like this in a while."

"How come I cant sense you?" Yoruichi asked. "I happened to see you and Kisuke said you'd probably be running around."

"Ah, this." He pulled out the dragon charm and showed it to the purple-haired assassin. "Raven gave it to me so I didn't draw any attention to myself."

"How come I didn't sense you before?"

"Raven," Shiro answered. "He blocked the burst with his wings and kept out power in check since then." Yoruichi looked at the bird on her shoulder, raising an eyebrow. The four-wing bird hopped off of her shoulder, ash swirling to cover his shift into his more human form.

"Should I have not, he would have killed many people," Raven explained, throwing a glance at Ichigo before returning his gaze to Yoruichi. "From what we have observed, this is against the young master's personality along with it being a hassle to both realms. Having that many deaths on our hands will not sit well with anyone."

The assassin nodded, golden eyes gliding over Raven's new form.

"You know how to use that whip?" Yoruichi purred, eyeing the two weapons at the Fallen's side. Raven smirked, playing along.

"In many ways," he replied, watching here eyes widen before a playful spark ignite in her golden eyes.

"Oh, how many?"

"Fathomless. Whips are very versatile. Master is very fond of it, but he likes using his claws a bit more."

"Hell yeah! What could be bad 'bout rippin' your opponent 'n half with your own two hands?" Shirosaki grinned, his own nails sharpening into points. Ichigo sighed and rolled his eyes, plopping down on the rooftop.

"Getting all bloody," Ichigo deadpanned, a nod from Raven and a fist bump from Yoruichi. Shiro glared. "Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of your clothes?"

"You're wearin' black!" Shiro protested. "I'm wearin' white! White!" Ichigo snickered, Yoruichi cackling like a madman. Raven simply shook his head, smile on his face as Shiro pouted.

"My armor is white, do you know how much work goes into it?" Raven questioned, peering down at the glimmering metal. The group burst into laughter again, Ichigo being the first to recover. He looked out to the full moon, a smile stretching over his lips.

"Whatcha thinkin' 'bout, Ichi?" Shiro questioned, looking at his king. Their soul-deep connection told him nothing of what his master felt besides the strong feeling of pure happiness.

"How much I missed this," he responded, running a tanned hand through orange locks. "It feels so good to be in the game again."

"You know, Kisuke worked himself into his after-grave to try and get your powers back," Yoruichi informed, a layer of guilt settling on Ichigo's face. "I think he's mad that it was just handed to us. His science brain couldn't fix it."

Ichigo chuckled, Shiro cackling before disappearing. The orange twin turned to Raven, a question swimming in his heart.

"Do I have a time limit to how long I can stay here?" Raven closed his eyes in thought before answering.

"No, I would think not. Master is known for patience when it comes to the young. He knows this is difficult for you and will not push."

"What will he be doing the first time he goes with you?" Yoruichi asked, crouching down to sit with Ichigo.

"Mostly to control that monstrous power of his. That, and to meet the master and see the castle. Make sure the Hydra doesn't eat him."

"Hydra?" both Shinigami asked, brows raising.

"Of course," Raven sniffed, "only the best to guard the palace."

"But it's Tartarus..." Ichigo trailed of slowly before continuing, "who in their right mind would wanna go there willingly?"

"Lords Belphegor and Lucifer come over often, and though no one invites him, Lord Asmodeus is persistent on bedding Master," Raven sighed, a headache forming right behind his temples. "Anyone else is only asking for a slow and painful death. He is not called the Lord of Torture in jest."

"I would assume not," Yoruichi nodded, "if what rumors say is true."

"What rumor?" Ichigo questioned, Raven's eyes sparking in interest.

"That the King of Hell is the one who taught the second squad all the methods we use. Technically that's the correct term," Yoruichi shrugged, stretching until a satisfying pop sounded.

"It is, but also, not at all. Master has, indeed, given the Shinigami a few of his techniques, but it is only a grain on his beach of experience."

"From the outside, this conversation would not be about not be about torture but about something mundane, like cooking," Ichigo chuckled, shaking his head. Yoruichi nodded, agreeing.

"It's time for you to be heading home, there, Ichi. It's getting late and you still need your sleep," Yoruichi reminded, watching a long yawn get drawn out from the young adult.

"Yeah, got work in the morning," he groaned. "Night, Yoruichi."

"Night Ichigo, Raven." Then she vanished. Ichigo rolled his eyes, standing and looked at Raven.

"Ready to head home?" he asked, rolling his shoulders to loosen them a bit.

"Indeed," Raven replied, "it is late and you still need rest."

"Don't demons sleep? Fallen, my bad," Ichigo corrected himself. "I would think they were at least nocturnal."

"We do sleep, but we do not need to. More a luxury, really," Raven explained, heading toward the Kurosaki household. "Have you noticed the ink that is on your skin?"

"What? The mark on my neck? Yeah, I have."

"Not that." They crawled through his window, landing on his bed, being careful of Ichigo's body. "The other ones." Ichigo raised a brow, looking at his hands, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. "Take off your top. It's underneath."

Ichigo did as ordered, taking off his white shitagi a black kosode to reveal the tattooed chain wrapping around his torso. Ichigo just stared, both curious and alarmed. The chain was black, standing out against tanned skin. It circled around his arms, shackles cuffing his wrists. They were concealed by his long sleeves, which is why he never noticed.

"They aren't there in my human body," Ichigo informed, scowl deepening. "I had on a short-sleeve t-shirt when we found the mark. You seen." Raven nodded in agreement.

"I believe it has to do with the bond between you and Master. That bond wraps around your soul, but I've never seen it physically manifest besides Master's mark," Raven remarked, switching to his bird form, nestling in in little bed of blankets. 'Perhaps it is because of your heritage. I do not think there has ever been a Soul Reaper champion.'

"Maybe," Ichigo sighed, shrugging on his uniform and hopping back into his body. "A lot of things don't go right with me. Bankai takes ten years minimum to master and even longer to get. I got it in three days. I was a Soul Reaper for a month and beat up half of Seireitei. I nearly killed an immortal, for God's sake," Ichigo ranted, throwing his hands up as he lay on his bed.

'I do see the issue. You have, indeed, proven yourself over and over to be able to do the impossible. That is what had caught Master's eye. You should sleep not, young Master,' Raven advised, curling into his blanket-nest.

"Stop that."

'Stop what?'

"Calling me 'young Master'. I'm not your master, I don't own you. Never will."

A soft chuckle echoed through his head as he relaxed into his bed. With Raven watching over him and his powers only a pass away, his soul finally was at peace.

0oo00oo0

"Ready?"

Raven, Ichigo, Isshin, Urahara and his employees, and the Goddess of Flash all stood in Urahara's basement. Ichigo, in his soul form, stood with his back to Raven, wishing 'I'll see you soon's to his friends and father. His sisters had been told that he was going to a camp on one of their father's whims and Yuzu bought it, but Karin gave her father a doubting look.

"Yeah. If it's anything like you say, then I would like to get a bit of sight seeing in," Ichigo grinned, excitement and an odd feeling curling in his soul making him almost bounce on his heels. "We wont be gone too long, right?"

"We told the girls two weeks," Isshin reminded. "So if you need any time you have it, but remember, there are earthquakes here in Japan. One could happen at any time."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, turning to Raven and nodding his consent. He was wrapped in an odd power, dark but not evil, before ash seemed to swirl around him. When he was able to see, he was in front of a huge castle. It was pitch black, black sand under his feet and black stones making up the castle walls. He made a mental note to wear boots, the sand slipping easily into his waraji.

He stared in awe as the castle's golden doors opened by their selves, revealing a white marble floor, gold-bordered purple drapes, and bright, red marigolds and pink bouvardia coupled in the corners in small flowerbeds.

"The flowers represent Master's moods," Raven explained, leading the awed teen into the castle. "Marigolds are a favorite of his, meaning grief and despair. When they are red, it is merely decoration. It is orange that you must watch. The bouvardia means enthusiasm. He is very eager to meet you and has been for a while."

A huff blew loose, orange strands over Ichigo's shoulder, making him freeze as his instincts told him of great danger.

"Hydra, be nice," Raven scolded. "Ichigo here is Master's champion. Play nice." Ichigo turned, and sure enough, there stood a nine-headed, winged lizard. All nine heads had different colored eyes, all staring at him in curiosity.

"Hi there," Ichigo greeted nervously, the huge beast's black-eyed head sniffing him. It blew a bit of air at him, making him step backward. The Hydra seemed to accept him, all of them curling around him protectively. He pet one of them, slowly gaining confidence as he went. It purred low in its throat, the sound rumbling through the empty hall.

"He seems to like you," Raven observed, petting a yellow-eyed head that had looked him over for wounds. "Come, Master awaits us."

Ichigo stumbled after Raven's graceful steps, the Hydra thundering behind them. How it didn't knock anything over was completely lost on Ichigo. The Substitute Soul Reaper gaped at the throne room, the majestic colors of black, white, gold and purple continuing on, but only bouvardia flowers remained.

In the middle-back of the room was a throne, a figure sitting there draped in silk and silver. Ichigo's blood ran hot and his soul cried out at he looked at the figure, something connecting the two of them far deeper than anything he had ever felt.

The King of Tartarus was wearing a gold, Roman toga, both shoulders pinned with silver clips. If one looked closely, you could see silver vines slithering through long, crimson hair. One leg was crossed over the other at the knees, his head being held up by his knuckles, elbow supported by the armrest. He had pale skin, almost milky, the silver dragon charm with a mane of ruby standing out against it. Golden eyes shifted over his frame, taking him in as he was, capturing his soul in his gaze.

"Ichigo," the king spoke, Raven already by his side, "I thank you for agreeing to this. You could have declined, and it brings me endless joy to have you here. It has been a long while before I have interacted with the Reapers, and I would like to inquire as to their well being."

The man's voice was smooth, silky. It held no malice, but you could hear the steel behind them. Ichigo had no doubts that voice had tempted many to sin, and succeeded.

"Of course, your Highness. The pleasure is mine. I am told that you are the one to thank for Zangetsu. You have no idea how much it means to me," Ichigo thanked, emotions welling as he bowed slightly at the waist.

"None of that, young one," Abezethibou smiled gently, Ichigo lifting his head to look at the King of Torture. "You are an equal to everyone here. My dear champion, there is nothing here that you must bow to." He stood with the grace of thousands of years of experience, stepping off his dais to join his champion on the floor. "Come, I must show you your home away from home."

Ichigo stood strait, following Abezethibou through the halls. He looked about, noticing the shadows warp around them, as if summoned by the demon's mere presence.

"So," Abez started, drawing brown eyes to him, "has Raven been on his best behavior? I gave him a bit of freedom on how he did this and I am ever curious as to how he conducted himself."

"He loves dramatic entrances," Ichigo chuckled, "but he's got a really soft smile. He made quick friends of my little crew. He was a bit pressy about having to come here, but other than that," he shrugged.

Abez nodded, the chuckled a bit. Ichigo gave him a questioning look and Abez answered. "You have not said my name once." Ichigo flushed a bright red. "I assume it is because you cannot say my name?" Ichigo nodded, the floor suddenly interesting. "The High Prince has given me a nickname that only he is aloud to use. He calls me Abismo, meaning abyss in Spanish."

Ichigo tried it out on his tongue and found it much easier to say.

"How have you liked the castle? While its walls to tend to mislead, once you find your way around, it should be no chore." Ichigo, like the idiot he sometimes was, had not paid any attention to where they were heading, and not was lost in the halls with the King of Torture. Now, they were at a large pair of doors, which were a good two feet over his head, which were pushed open with a breath of spirit pressure from its king. "This is the training room."

It was like anything you expect. There was a huge plateau of sand, one that had a few shifts in it from previous bouts. There were high walls and an open ceiling, but even Ichigo could feel the barrier around the place.

"Just across the hall is the showering area," Abez explained, moving to leave the training grounds, "and just down the hall is a small dining area. Not the main dining area, mind you. Hopefully, we can get that raging fire of a soul you have under a bit of control."

"I've never been able to," Ichigo grouched. "There's just so much to grab that my hands get full and some just leaks. If I try and completely suppress it, my body feels like it's going to explode."

"Ah, but it is not the problem of there being too much," Abez coached, walking down another of the identical halls. "There is a problem of how much you can hold. Yamamoto has vast amounts of energy, but he doesn't leak. We just have to strengthen your arms to hold it all."

Ichigo nodded. It made sense, but how were they going to do that? The smirk on Abismo's face scared him. They finished their tour, ending in the gardens. There was flowers from all over the world in silvers and golds, gems sparkling in the inside. There was what looked like a forest beyond it, but if he squinted, he could see little black fruits hanging from the trees.

"These are the shadow fruits that Raven told you about," Abismo confirmed. "Do be careful when retrieving them." Only Ichigo's warrior reflexes and instincts saved him from getting swiped by a huge paw. "There is a protector. The spirits here also want these fruits to escape their punishment. So, the Manticore protects it."

The beast came into full light, a lion's body and head had a scorpion's tail curling over it, bat-like wings folded at its sides. The giant beast towered over the both of them by a good few inches, looking down at Ichigo with curiosity and something close to respect.

It sniffed him, taking him in, before rubbing its head against him, pushing out a chuckle. Ichigo pet its mane, smoothing it out as it purred. It walked off to lay down, cleaning its paws.

"He likes you," Abismo laughed, "but while were here, Ichigo." Ichigo turned to him, noticing he was getting serious. It made his skin crawl. "I want to know what the bond did to you. Raven has told you that it reacts to everyone differently, and I don't want you to be suffering anything nasty because of me."

Ichigo thought about it, but shrugged. "I don't feel anything wrong. I have Zangetsu back, and that weird mark on the back of my neck, but other than that. Oh, there is this," Ichigo remembered, lifting his sleeve to show the shackle and chains around his arms. "I got them on my legs, to. Raven said that I rub my wrists unconsciously and I've been trying to stop."

"Can I see the mark?"

"It's under my collar," Ichigo informed, turning for Abismo to pull down his collar. Ichigo shivered as cold fingers brushed his skin, an odd feeling curling in his stomach.

"It is, indeed, mine. I don't know if it is selfish to say, but I'm proud of myself that I got to you first." Abismo sighed, remembering that argument. "I could tell you would do best with me, so I had to take to from them."

"From what I hear," Ichigo scowled, turning to face him again, "some of them can be douches." Abismo blinked at the modern word before laughing.

"Yes," he breathed, trying to get air into his lungs, "I suppose you could say that." Abismo smiled at him, the expression soft and patient. He came a bit closer to him and cupped Ichigo's tanned face, searching brown eyes with gold. Ichigo's breath caught, the chilled, pale hands sending sparks down his skin, the bond between them crying out in his soul.

"Why don't you come say hi, Zangetsu? You seem curious," Abismo whispered, rubbing his thumbs over Ichigo's cheekbones. The cloaked zanpakto spirit stood behind its master, but the albino was at both of their feet.

"My Kings," Shirosaki purred, looking up from where he knelt. Abismo chuckled, letting Ichigo go to pet the albino's hair. The Hollow purred, a low sound that echoed in his throat.

"Hello, Zangetsu. I was wondering when you would come to see me. You seemed so excited, your master's blade was nearly vibrating," Abismo chuckled, confusing Ichigo.

"Abismo, that's not-"

"Zangetsu? My dear boy, can you not tell?" Abismo questioned, confusing Ichigo even more. A firm hand landed on his shoulder, the older spirit's presence settling him. "They are both your power, yes, but it seems you swing a false blade." Golden eyes turned sharply to yellow-protected silver.

"False blade? Zangetsu has always been like this," Ichigo protested.

"That's because," Shiro spoke up, standing, "it was never right to begin with. He locked me up, telling me it was for your protection. The greedy bastard only wanted you for himself! I've told you, King, that I am Zangetsu! That fact never changed!" Shiro raged, pointing to the darker spirit.

Ichigo turned to 'Zangetsu', confusion and betrayal shining in brown irises. "It is true," Zangetsu spoke, "but I have not lied to you besides my name. I wanted you to rely me, your Quincy. I wanted to keep you from turning into a Soul Reaper, but as we grew, all I wanted to do was protect you. To train you in both life and battle."

Ichigo turned to his guardian, determination shining in his eyes, a bit of something else shining in his eyes.

"I don't care."

All of them simply looked at him, stunned.

"You have both carried me, even though I was a complete ass to one of you. I realized that while you were gone. I don't care if you lied to me, you only did it to protect me. Your name is still Zangetsu, there's only one difference." He held out a hand for Shiro to grab.

"You have a partner now, not a prisoner."

Shiro took that hand, power igniting between the three of them as his old blade crumbled on Ichigo's back, two more taking it's place. The both still looked like cleavers, a smaller trench knife wrapped in white cloth at his waist and a Kyber knife resting on his back in black cloth. Both blades were pure black, the handles made into the blades.

A sense of completion came over them, a wave of pure pleasure and trust flowing between them.

"Did ya not hear the Quincy part?" Shiro questioned, waiting for his master to freeze up, but it never happened.

"Pops told me while you were sleeping," Ichigo grinned, already knowing what the Hollow part of his soul was trying to do. "So it doesn't come as a shock."

So while Shiro cursed Goat-chin into oblivion, Abismo smiled warmly at all of them. Truly, he had chosen the right one.

"Ah, Highness," Shiro spoke, standing next to him. Golden eyes met, one a bit darker than the other, and the lighter pair shut before his head nodded.

"Ichigo," Abismo called, hating to wipe that smile of his face, "I think it's time to deal with those voices."

Ichigo gave him a confused look, so both Zangetsu's loosened their grip on the insanity roaring in their king's head. Ichigo's eyes widened, pain spiking through his head, as a thousand voices assaulted his ears all at once. Cold hands covered his ears, blocking them out. Chocolate met shining gold.

"It is most important that you know how deal with these, Ichigo."

Even with the hands over his ears, his soothing voice rang clear, calming his nerves and silencing the voices. Amber eyes closed, a soft bliss coming over him as he leaned into his king, his horse's arms wrapping around his waist to steady him.

"We can't keep 'em back forever, King. We're gonna get tired, eventually," Shiro sighed, nuzzling Ichigo's mark.

"I know, Shiro," Ichigo confirmed, sighing.

"Let us go to the training hall, then, and get this sorted," Abismo commanded, the two spirits nodding and returning to Ichigo's inner wold once more.

0oo00oo0

Ichigo sat in the middle of the training hall, legs crossed, eyes closed. He wasn't in his inner world yet, simply relaxing. Abismo sat in front of him, watching him with an intensity that Raven had never seen.

His master had summoned him to watch over them, to seal them should things go wrong. He watched as the features of the teen softened, relaxing into the arms of the blade that laid across his thighs, the smaller one stabbed into the sand between his legs.

He watched his master nod, closing his eyes to follow his champion into meditation.

0oo00oo0

Abismo had to say he was impressed. The skyscrapers that laid sideways in the young adult's mind were impressive, but that is not what he had come for. Both Zangetsu were lined shoulder-to-shoulder to their king, glaring at the think wall in front of them.

"Through there," Shiro informed, eyes narrowing. "Can you hear 'em? There's thousands."

"This will not be a easy task," Zangetsu warned, shifting his gaze to Ichigo from behind his yellow, wrap-around sunglasses.

"We can do it." Ichigo's tone was final as he turned to Abismo.

"We will do this together, my young champion," Abismo assured, cupping Ichigo's face again, but a heat settled over his skin. He watched as the man's skin turned red, his right eye matching his Hollow's gold on black. A red, leathery wing flexed from his left shoulder, spreading out to show its full size. Horns that spiraled curved back, parallel to his skull.

Skin and muscle pealed of his left side, his cheek disappearing to give full view of the inside of his mouth, fangs, and the bottom part of his cheekbone. The left hand holding his face withered, flesh turning to ash until it was warm bones that soothed him. The same happened up his arm to his shoulder, the left half of his torso letting his ribcage into view, a void filling where his insides would be.

"Do I scare you, Ichigo?" he breathed, eyes shifting to a blood-crazed crimson for only a second. "Is this a form that will haunt your dreams and turn these buildings into rubble?"

"No," Ichigo replied, his voice firm. Abismo nodded, satisfied, and took a step back from the teen.

"Good. Let us deal with this, then." Ichigo nodded, his zanpakto already unsheathed, their human counterparts gone. He turned to the wall, feeling the pressure behind it, as if it was a dam hold back water. Taking a deep breath, he raised his Kyber knife, his eyes glowing silver.

"Getsuga Tensho."

His signature move clashed with the wall, letting the waves of begging souls loose.

"Do not fight them Ichigo, lest you burn their souls for eternity. Let them flow passed you, but not through you."

Ichigo nodded, sheathing his blades once more at the hoard came at them. He flinched at their screams, pleas for help he could not answer.

Help me!

Save me! It burns!

We are slaves! Free us!

Screams of pure agony ripped through him, but not a soul touched him. He didn't let them. Not with his power, but his pure will. He didn't look at the King of Torture, who he knew was watching him with a keen eye. A soul grabbed his ankle, another his wrist, but he never moved, the limbs of the deceased sliding off of his as if he was covered in a layer of oil. Never did his stance shift or his heart waver.

His soul stood as a rock in a sea, a pillar of might that would never bow to the likes of water.

Soon, it was over, the sea of souls slipping through the space between the buildings to scream out to the void below. They were still there, if you listened, but Ichigo paid them no mind. The king was still on his throne and no souls were going to knock him off.

Ichigo gave no warning to falling, but Abismo caught him anyway, pulling the Shinigami to him. Petting his hair with warm bones and wrapping his wing around his champion to dissipate the chill that had suddenly settled on his skin.

"Bravo, Protector. Well done. You kept you soul open to them yet your will firm. You passed my expectations. You have earned your rest, young one," Abezethibou praised. Ichigo nodded sleepily, letting his eyes droop in the comfort of his king's arms.

0oo00oo0

Raven picked Ichigo off the ground after settling Zangetsu's two blades on his own back and hip. His master opened his eyes, summoning his favored Japanese long-pipe, the bowl and mouthpiece a harsh gold, the shaft obsidian black with golden Hydra heads roaring around it, different gems in their eyes. It lit itself, his master taking a calm breath of smoke, the smoke forming a Chinese dragon to wrap around Ichigo before disappearing.

"You can put him in my room, Raven. He needs the rest," Abismo nodded, Raven bowing slightly and making his way to his lord's chambers. Abismo stayed in the sand for a bit longer, thinking as he wasted his lungs on the pipe.

A screech echoed in his ears, making him look up. He lift his pale hand to let the fire-bird rest on it, a letter gripped in its mouth. The bird looked a bit like a falcon, its head a bit slimmer, but its entire body was made of Hell's flames. He took the letter, the phoenix hopping up to his shoulder.

What the bird had was an invitation to show off his champion at the main palace. 'Whenever you deem him ready, send word '. A soft smile pulled at his lips at the signature at the bottom. He turned it to the back of the page, using his magic to put ink to parchment. He gave it to the phoenix and watched it fly off. This was going to be interesting.

0oo00oo0

Ichigo woke up in black silks, the soft bed calling his name as sore muscles resisted movement. He groaned, knowing he had to wake up. The bed, which his hazed mind supplied he was on, dipped, long fingers running through his hair. The smell of tobacco filled the room, relaxing him back into the mattress. A low voice sang softly in a different language, a smooth lullaby leaving pale lips. It only stopped to take a breath of the pipe that was held in their hand.

Dors, petit prince. [Sleep, little prince.]

Dors, petit. [Sleep, little one.]

Rêvez et rappelez-vous tous les bons moments. [Dream, and remember all the good times.]

It was in French, he realized, though he didn't understand it. The words were smooth and elegant, giving it away. He snuggled into the warmth, unknowing burring his face into the King of Torture's thigh. He didn't stop his petting, nor did his lullaby sease besides the small pauses to take another hit on his pipe that never went out.

The voice above him chuckled, running his fingers through orange spikes. "Ichigo, it is time to wake up. Come on, it's time for you to wake. Breakfast is ready and we must not keep Raven waiting."

The orangette groaned, but blearily looked up at him.

"I dun wanna," he whined, not willing to get up from the soft bed. Abismo chuckled once more, a nasty though entering his head. Hooding his golden eyes, he let the flesh of his hand melt away after he set his pipe down on the bedside table.

The warm bones brushed Ichigo's cheek, leading a trail down his throat. His Adam's apple bobbed, the young warrior's hands twitching. Abismo suppressed his laughter as he trailed his warmed bones against the back of the other male's neck, watching as he started to wiggle. His brows furrowed, eyes fluttering open again to glare at the older man.

"Wake up, vindicem [my champion," Abismo snickered. After Ichigo got himself situated and ready, picking up his two blade that were resting on their own stand, the headed to the dining hall, bickering playfully back and forth.

"You know, Ichigo," Abismo spoke up, taking another huff of his pipe, "you are the only one who is brave enough to glare at me like that. Even the other sins are wary of my ire."

"You woke me up," Ichigo countered. "I wouldn't care if you were Kami-sama, I would still glare at you." Abezethibou laughed, his ribs feeling into the pressure of his lungs expanding.

"And this is why I like you, Ichigo Kurosaki," Abez smiled, calming down. "You give everyone a big fuck you when it's needed." Ichigo gave his king a smug smile as they entered the dining hall, Raven already seated. Abismo took his place at the end of the table Ichigo taking the chair to his left.

Ichigo watched in awe as figures made of ash shifted through the doors, carrying trays of food and bottles of drinks ranging from what looked like wine to milk. Ichigo immediately took to the orange juice, happy one of his favorite drinks were among them.

From Western breakfast of eggs and bacon to some his own cuisine of white rice and miso soup, it was all laid out. Shiro took the seat next to Ichigo, practically drooling. He startled the ashen people, spooking them into stepping away.

"Rest your spirits. No harm will be done by him," Abismo assured. The wisps seemed to understand, continuing their service and them briskly leaving. "Do dig in. Eat as much as you wish. There is always more."

Shiro took that to heart, Ichigo a bit more calm and mannered. Raven couldn't help but be amused by how different the twins were.

"So, what are we planing today?" Ichigo asked, scooping some rice into his mouth.

"A dear friend of mine has invited us to the High Palace for you to meet the other sins. I've been told to send word when you're ready," Abismo explained, playing a bit with some scrambled eggs.

"Like, the Big Guy down here?" Shiro questioned, at least having the decency to swallow before he spoke.

"Lucifer, yes," Abismo confirmed, "but I would like to get that raging inferno of yours under control before we go. Any demon will take that as either a threat or a challenge. Neither we want."

Ichigo went red, rubbing the base of his neck. "I've never been good at it, so it'll take a lot of time."

"Not if he teaches you right. For how much you suck, you can learn to at least swallow correctly."

Shiro burst into cackles as Ichigo looked at him wide-eyed. Raven had a grin that the King reflected. Brown eyes narrowed, tanned skin turning red, black and red power wrapping around him. His glare turned murderous, and Shiro took the hint to start running, not that he forgot to cackle along the way.

0oo00oo0

Ichigo's brow furrowed in concentration, the dragon pendant Raven had given to him in the blackbird's hands once more. He newly found energy was whirling around him as he tried to contain it. His top had been removed, saying that as he drew on his power, the chains itched.

He sighed, opening his eyes groaning in frustration. A headache built up behind his eyes, sweat gathering at his temples.

"UGH," Ichigo complained. "I still cant get it all!" Raven sighed but his master was patient. Abismo walked up to his champion, his own outfit switched to his more casual pair of burnt-orange, silk hakuma, his chest as bare as his feet.

"Ichigo," he smiled softly, getting the younger's attention, "it will take time. Here, sit." Ichigo plopped into the sand with a huff and watched Abismo disappear from his his vision. Shuffles behind him told him his king had sat behind him. He was pulled into a lap, making him squeak.

"Concentrate," he whispered, putting a hand over Ichigo's eyes. "Feel the things around you. Feel how your power swirls around you, how protectively it encases you. Do you feel Shiro? Zangetsu? They are hear with you, giving you strength."

Abismo smiled as he felt the teen relax, peace loosening his muscles, seeing the world without his eyes. Ichigo let out a calm breath, centering himself.

"Take that strength and hold it close. Remember what you do with that power. You protect, and in turn, it protects you. Gather it all in your arms, let it soak into your pores and strengthen you." As he spoke, Ichigo's raging energy calmed, absorbing into him and being sealed away. He could feel Ichigo's brows furrow as the last little bit refused to fit into his hold.

"Do not get frustrated with it. It only wishes to be always by your side. Coax it to you," Abismo coached, the thumb of his other hand coming up to rub at his temple. "It is only scared that should it leave you, you will be harmed. Remind it of your strength."

Shiro came to rest on his knees in front of him, a look of both pride and worry that he couldn't help crossing over his face.

"I know, King. I know you're strong... and that we could never truly leave ya..."

"We are worried," Zangetsu spoke, standing behind his other half.

Something flashed over their faces, a sense of pride and trust flowing through their souls. Both spirits nodded, disappearing. Ichigo opened his eyes, his energy restrained and a broad smile on his face.

"I DID IT!" he cheered, standing from Abez's lap to throw up his fists in victory. "I GOT IT ALL!" Raven chuckled into his hand, watching as Ichigo melted back into the sand, huffing out a sigh of relief. He rolled his eyes, looking at the imaginary watch on his wrist.

"It only took you," his brows furrowed, as if calculating the time on the invisible watch, "three years. Congratulations, Master Ichigo." Ichigo flipped him off, still panting on the ground.

Abez laughed, his skin turning leathery and red, horns curling back toward the base of his skull. His red hair, which Ichigo had agreed was even brighter than Renji's, was flowing down his back except for a few rebellious strands that fell between his horns.

"Indeed, you did, Ichigo," Abismo chuckled, his ribs aching. "So, now here is a question, young champion."

"Hm?" Ichigo hummed, turning his head to his king.

"There is still the invitation to the High Palace, Ichigo," Abez reminded. "If you would like to train a bit more, then that is alright, but we can go now, if you wish."

"I really wanna go," Ichigo smiled excitedly before the expression dropped a bit, "but something tells me that I should probably get used to my swords before we go." Raven nodded, coming up to them.

"That is wise, Master Ichigo," he praised, getting a scolding look from the orangette. "The sins there may become a bit violent. I am holding you to Master's protection while I am not there."

"Does it really get that bad?"

"I can handle myself," Abez waved away, "but Raven likes me to have backup. Most of the sins are reasonable around me and Lucifer, but Satan and Leviathan seems to have a special hate for me."

"It doesn't surprise me that Wrath and Envy would have a bone to pick," Ichigo shrugged, eyes raising to ceiling in thought. Abez raised a brow. "I looked it up. I am right, right?"

"Yes, but I would not call them that in front of them. Our titles hold a power," Abez warned, raising from the sand. He took another breath from his pipe, the one that never seemed to go out.

"What kind of power?" Ichigo asked, sitting up. "People call me Substitute all the time."

"Champion of the Pit," Abezethibou addressed, watching as Ichigo stiffened, shivers racing across his skin and his muscles locking him in place, "do not brush them aside here. In Hell, your title is a gift and a responsibility. It holds weight, but you only feel it so strongly because I am your 'master', for lack of a better word. It will feel different with the other sins, not as intense."

Ichigo shifted through what he was feeling. An urge to go to his king's side and kneel was almost too strong, coils of a snake wrapping him in a suffocating embrace. His breath was stolen from him, eyes locked on Abismo's form.

"Come, I think this is enough for today." Ichigo stood quickly and followed after him, retrieving Zangetsu's blades from the sand.

"Is your title King of the Pit? Or of Tartarus?" Ichigo asked innocently, curiosity burning in his amber orbs.

"No, and I will not tell you. That is a loaded question of both trust and loyalty. Only one knows my title, and he is not you," Abez dismissed. "I would bargain against asking anyone their name. It takes hundreds of years of trust and companionship to ask for such a sacred thing."

Ichigo nodded, mulling it over in his mind. Titles. It was like the true names of the Egyptian gods. They held an odd power.

"Abismo..." Ichigo spoke softly, knowing he had crossed a line. He got a hum from the red-skinned devil. "Have you ever... I don't know how to explain it."

"Take your time."

Ichigo furrowed his brows, not knowing how to continue. He scowl deepened, a hand going to rub at the base of his neck. "I feel more at home here than I do anywhere. Shiro is always purring while we are in Hueco Mundo while Ossan are more comfortable in the World of the Living... Is it wrong to feel so safe here?"

Abismo looked at the young boy who was asking for his wisdom. He was lost, guilty, and it was something Abismo couldn't stand.

"My champion," his title made his ears perk, "my chains are wrapped around your very soul. If you didn't feel at home here, I would be worried. Each part of your soul has a place that they are most comfortable, but you have only one home." Ichigo's eyes flashed, understanding settling on his face. "Can you tell me where your home is?"

"Kurosaki Clinic."

Abismo smiled, nodding. He had half expected the boy to say the World of the Living. "You know," Abismo hummed, a sly smile crossing his lips, "you could show off a bit more skin, Ichigo. Maybe cut those sleeves off."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, knowing that his king only wanted others to see the chains that sealed their deal. Suddenly, a chill went down his spine, his instinct making him reach for his Kyber knife.

"Ichigo?" Abismo called, noticing his companion's sudden tenseness. The castle's flowers shifted to wolfsbane, alerting its ruler to an intruder.

A whistle broke through the stillness, claiming the offender was impressed. "Quite the catch you have there, Abezethibou. He's a cutie." A blond man with bright blue eyes came out of the shadows, smirking flirtatiously. "You know, you should come with me for a night and see if you change your mind about the King of the Pit."

Ichigo wrinkled his nose at the offer, causing a bout of laughter from Abismo and a haughty turn of a nose from the new man.

"Ichigo," Abismo breathed, clinging to Ichigo's shoulder for support, "you just wrinkled your nose at the Sin of Lust." He went into another fit, unable to catch his breath as his chest caved in.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, looking the man up and down again. "And you are?"

"I am Asmodeus, Sin of Lust," he introduced, leering at the younger male. "I hear you are the new champion and I got curious."

"If all the sins are like this then what is the point of having a party at the High Palace? They'll all just come here," Ichigo griped.

"Because a few of the sins are not welcome here," Abismo explained, "and will be slowly fed to the Hydra piece by piece should they even step within twenty miles of my kingdom." Ichigo could tell he meant every word.

"Your master is very wicked with a blade," Asmodeus informed, hooded blues trained on the half exposed form of Abez. "He isn't called the King of Torture in jest."

"Raven said the same thing," Ichigo recalled. He was confused as a growl ripped through the younger sin's throat, a smirk playing across Abismo's. "What?"

"Me and Raven had a thing back in the day and Asmodeus is still a bit tender about it."

"Dude," Ichigo turned to Lust with a blank expression, "go take a hot shower to dissolve all that salt." Abismo blinked, not understanding the modern slag, but apparently it was an insult because Lust jerked in indignation.

"ME? The Sin of Lust... SALTY?" Asmodeus gasped, an offended hand clapping to his chest. "You need to watch that mouth of yours, boy."

"You can try and make me," Ichigo glowered, crossing his arms. Abez immediately stepped in between them, a glare leveling both of them.

"Asmodeus... get out of my house."

The sin shrunk back, back arched like a hissing cat before he disappeared into the shadows again.

"Ichigo..." The orangette flinched. "Stop being mean. Asmodeus is quick to jealousy and wrath. You don't want to catch his ire," Abismo sighed, looking to his young champion with a form of parental patience.

"Not my fault," Ichigo huffed, but before he could continue to defend himself, he was scolded.

"It doesn't matter who starts the fight, but who ends it," Abismo spoke wisely. "When you pick fights with the sins, you better have the control and power to back it up. While Asmodeus is not the most powerful of the sins, he is still a force to be reckoned with."

"Is he part of the originals?" Ichigo questioned.

"No. There are only three originals. Lucifer, myself, and the Sin of Sloth, Belphegor. We are the only ones who have not been resurrected."

"Resurrected?" Ichigo blinked.

"Ah, you wouldn't know that. As long as their specific sin is being committed by mortals, the Seven Sins will reincarnate. While they do come back and have the same memories, they may or may not have the same amount of power. That is why dying is risky, along with the amount of time it takes," Abismo explained, moving down the hall once more. "We have not died since our original falling, making us originals."

"But... your not a sin," Ichigo puzzled, "how would you come back?" Abismo stopped and glanced at Ichigo, having reached his room, his lips thinned in thought.

"Ichigo..." Abismo spoke softly, "I'm going to show you something... something that could be used to kill me should anyone get a hold of it." Ichigo's eyes widened. "This is a sign of trust that I hope you don't break." His champion nodded, only concern and curiosity shining in his eyes. Abismo opened the door to his room, walking in and expecting Ichigo to follow.

Follow in he did, taking in the room once more. This was the room he had woken up in, apparently Abez's bedroom. He followed Abez to the wall opposite his bed, one that was bare of anything besides the ashen gray wallpaper.

"Here is a relic that most have died trying to get to. Hopefully one that will stay in one piece till the end of time." Abezethibou tapped a knuckle to the wall and it looked almost like a paper caught fire. It started where Abez had knocked and melted the wall in a neat circle. Behind it... was a crown.

It was made of bones, black gems in the crevices. It was oddly beautiful, but as Ichigo slowly crept closer, a chill went up his spine.

'That's the source of his power...' he heard Shiro whisper. He could feel the albino reach for it in his inner world, an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness flooding his blood. He brushed it with his fingertips, a spark of Abezethibou's dark aura brushing against his own.

Ichigo turned to his king who was still, watching him with soft eyes.

"Yes, Ichigo. You feel it, don't you? The connection between that pile of bones and I. That crown is my... one of my treasures. I rarely ever wear it, but I want to tell you tale of how it was made." Ichigo looked back to the neatly arranged bones, gems glittering. "It was made of my bones." His champion whipped around, gasping as bones shone in the void where his flesh had once been.

Abismo pushed him against the wall, caging him with his arms. "They were ripped from me, much like Adam, and made into the symbol of both my power and weakness." Ichigo could smell the anger in his soul and the breath that tickled his nose. "The God I served betrayed me because I loved another of my gender. He threw me out of my home because my heart ticked for someone else and now that man rots here with me, guilt gripping his heart every time he looks at me, praying I cant see it. This is what trust and love has gotten me Ichigo..."

He seemed to calm, his flesh returning and letting Ichigo go. He turned, his back to him in vulnerability. "This is what it has given me... so I ask; what has it given you?"

"My..." Ichigo chocked up, making his master look over his shoulder. "Its got my mother killed. It dragged me into a war I had no reason to be in... its gotten the ones I love hurt." He paused, looking at the defeat in the elders golden irises. "But it has given me so much more."

"Like?"

"My family and friends. I wouldn't trade them for all the power and riches you could give me. I got to kick a wanna-be god's ass and a couple more on the way. Its given me the power to protect, and if I didn't trust, how could I have someone at my back... like you are right now?"

Abismo faced forward once more, the wall next to Ichigo concealing the hidden gem. A chuckle broke passed his lips, making his shoulders shake. "If I told you..." he began, "that it was only turned so I didn't have to look at those fierce, determined... completely honest eyes of yours... what would you say?"

He was waiting to be called a coward, Ichigo realized, but the fire in his soul only burned brighter. "I'd tell you that I've been told that before." Abismo turned back completely, looking the teen dead in his amber eyes. "You've lost your fire is all. You just need someone else to light it." Ichigo smiled softly at him. Abismo released another chuckle, this one a bit more real.

"You do realize you just helped a 3236 year old man solve a problem he's burred in his heart of centuries in less than a minute?" Ichigo chuckled, a broad smirk flaring to life on his face.

"You're just a brooding old man," Ichigo teased, poke him in the shoulder, not that he budged. An offended hand came up to his chest playfully, eyes wide.

"Me? Old? You should know Lucifer's age. He's older than me."

"By how much?"

"296." Ichigo whistled as he quickly did the math.

"3532? You're all old."

"To you, maybe," Abezethibou jested, rolling his eyes. "The youngest of us is 2755. She fell after I was sealed."

"Leviathan?" Ichigo questioned, leaning on the wall he had previously been slammed into.

"Yup. Asmodeus was just a baby of 102 when I was struck into the ocean."

"Baby?" Ichigo joked, raising a brow.

"Go rest up," Abismo scolded, "you're going to need it going up against Raven and his blade." Ichigo rolled his eyes, but left anyway, making his way to his room that Raven had showed him earlier that day. He looked at the large bed, black and gold inviting him to come and rest. He took it, sighing. He thought of all he learned today, slowly letting his eyes drift close.

0oo00oo0

He heard a crack, a scream echoing in the room. Gasps and pants bounced off the walls in an vain attempt to fill lungs with air, whimpers of pain and anguish ringing in his ears. Blurry tile was coated red, blood dripping from his mouth.

He couldn't breathe.

So much pain.

He could hear someone, calling out a name that wasn't his. Red, long hair that didn't belong to him formed curtains on each side of face, blocking out even more of the world. He looked up, finding a blurry face, pale skin and shoulder-length, black hair.

His flesh was boiling and rotting, melting away. His bones snapped, clawing through what skin he had. They fell to the floor, shifting and bending, rattling their discontent from being forced out of their fleshy confines.

They glued themselves together, stitching into a twisted crown for a fallen king. The ground opened up below him, swallowing him and putting him into a dark sea of saltwater. A moon hung overhead, lighting the water just enough to see. The blood in his lungs joined with the water, his vision finally going blissfully dark.

"Sleep forever... Rey Ahogado."

0oo00oo0

Ichigo bolted upright, breathing heavy. He noticed the lack of water around him, the absence of the scent of his own blood. He swallowed, eyes wide as he thought of the meaning of his dream.

It was obviously a memory, a vision... but not his own. That bright red hair gave it away. Abismo. He had told him that he had been locked up in a body of water, but that was awful. He wasn't kidding when he said that crown was made of his own bones. Who was that blurry face he had seen? He seemed to know the King of the Pit, calling him by his nickname.

He thought about it for a while before he was spooked by a ash servant. He seemed a bit startled himself to see him awake, but laid clothes on the end of his bed and pointed to a door, the sound of water coming from behind it. Had they come in without him noticing?

"Thank you," he said, the servant bowing and leaving him to his own. Picking up his clothes and moving to the connected bathroom, Ichigo sighed, what was that? He shivered as he looked at the water.

He quickly washed up, looking at his outfit up and down with a raised brow in front of the full-body mirror. Black jeans and no-sleeve t-shirt, probably from the Living World. It showed off the chains on his arms, the cuffs around his wrist visible. His long, orange hair was in a tie, keeping it out of his face, black boots (thank Kami) on his feet. He had on a black haori, a pentagram encased in a sun in gold on the back.

Abezithbou's symbol.

Ichigo smiled a bit, heart filling with a sense of duty.

"You're giddy this mornin'," Shiro teased, coming up behind him as he walked into the hall.

"Finally have boots," Ichigo complained, smirk cracking on his face. "Took me forever to get the sand out of my sandals."

"True," Shiro agreed, grin splitting his face as the ashen servants flinched away from him. "Wanna spar after breakfast?"

"Yeah," Ichigo agreed, "it's been a while." He looked to his pale double, noticing that his clothes had changed to match his, though they were bleached white. He raised a brow.

"That damn Shikakusho is annoying sometimes," he complained in explanation. "I actually like normal clothes. It's Prince Pole-up-his-ass that likes traditional clothes."

"You just called yourself that," Ichigo teased, entering the dining hall.

"We might be Zangetsu

Drowned King -rey ahogado


	3. Sally

Growling at the stupid device before him, Sal crossed his arms over his chest. A snort came from behind him, which earned a electric-blue glare through the holes in his mask.

"It's funny because you are growling at an inanimate object," she answered his annoyance, which didn't earn her any points in his book. Long-sleeve, black shirt and red pants were the male teen's choice of wear. His blue sneakers were by the door, not needing them in the safety of his home.

The older girl stretched out on his bed, the one they sometimes shared. Her hair was a naturally chestnut brown, though it was hidden beneath black and streaks of blond, her eyes hazel-blue. Her black tank-top rode up, showing a flat stomach. Bluejeans went all the way to her socked feet, though her toes were still cold from the small draft that found its way inside. Blue, metal framed glasses rested on top of her head, blurring her vision.

"Good thing no one asked you, Mar," he snipped, but she could hear the smile behind his blank mask. "Maybe I can get Todd to look at it." Todd, their red-headed, bespectacled friend was their tech expert. The Super Gear Boy that Sal had been growling at was blinking, but no matter how hard Sal looked around their little apartment, he couldn't find the source.

"Or maybe you can let me take a look." Marie was the group psychic, though she hated the title. She was also Sal Fisher's adopted sister, one he had come to lean on in times of trial. "Come here and I'll do your hair."

He walked over to the bed and sat on the floor as Marie sat up and grabbed the two hair ties on the dresser next to the bed. Sal grumbled the entire time, letting her unclip his mask and weave her fingers through baby-blue hair. She loved playing with it, putting it into different styles when they were alone and the prosthetic mask her brother wore came off.

Marie's heart grew just as heavy as the mask in her younger brother's lap. She hated the stupid thing, but she understood. The scars were beautiful, but not everyone appreciated the beauty. Nor did they consider the person underneath them.

Shaking her head, Marie grabbed her brush and started on her brother's hair, getting out all the tangles sleep had left. Parting it as evenly as she could, she put the two halves in high pig-tails, as to not get in the way of the mask straps. This was her brother's preferred style, though it made him look a bit like a girl. That, and the nickname 'Sally Face' didn't help.

"All done," she chirped, letting him settle the mask on his face so she could click the clips into place. "I hate this dumb thing."

"I know." His voice was quiet, not wanting to have the same conversation that they've repeated thousands of times. "Want breakfast?"

"Eh," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. Marie wasn't a morning eater, this Sal knew and understood. "Wanna go bug Larry?"

"Sure." Larry, who Sal was teased endlessly about crushing by his adopted sister -he had once told her after such a comment that they had no relation and panicked when she started to cry-, was their metal loving, basement dwelling friend. "We can see of Todd is awake on the way down."

Marie nodded, accepting the plan. Moving over to her side of the small room, she grabbed one of her perfumes, clicked the cap once and letting it spray on her hip, then set it down again. They slipped on their shoes, Marie in her proffered black boots and Sal in blue sneakers. She clicked her tongue when she saw him just tuck in the laces instead of tying them.

The made their way to the second floor and to room 202, where Todd answered and took the malfunctioning Gear Boy to check for errors. His black eyes gazed at Marie questioningly behind circular glasses.

"Was there anything in the apartment that you could feel, Marie?" he asked, voice monotone, but they could both read his curiosity. There was a sleepy slur to his words.

"No," Marie replied, huffing. "I checked. There was nothing that I could feel besides the normal." Todd nodded and called his goodbyes as the two siblings walked away. They made their way back to the elevator, slipping in one of the cards to access the basement. They stood silently as their stomachs dropped along with the contraption, butterflies crawling out of their cocoons as the elevator rose from going too far down. Exiting, they walked down the hall to their right, passing the vending machine.

They opened the door to the apartment, the smell of bacon and eggs filling their senses. They waved to Lisa, who was in the kitchen cooking her and her son breakfast.

"Hey, you two. Larry's in his room. You want some breakfast?"

"No, thank you, Lisa," Marie declined, her brother politely doing the same. They made their way to the first bedroom, metal playing softly as to not irritate his mother. His brown eyes were narrowed in focus, the end of his paint brush in between his teeth as he analyzed the painting before him. Long, brown hair was in the same swept-back style, his Sanity's Fall tee-shirt unchanged. Jeans and bare feet accompanied it.

Marie went over to one of his dressers, opening the one that had a sticky note as old as time saying 'Mar's shit' on it. There was a new sketch book Larry had gotten her for her birthday that she had only sketched in twice, always while they where in Larry's room. She had another in the tree house, along with a third set of pencils Neil had given her. One of the other sets were here, in the drawer and the last one was in her and Sal's shared space.

She had them everywhere, and if you didn't want a bitch, you kept these and tea very close by. That, and Sal. Nothing calmed his sister more than his very presence. She had once said his aura was like the ocean, calm and soothing, but could turn into a tsunami at any time.

She snatched the sketchpad, box of pencils and erasers, and her small, portable easel from the floor before shutting the drawer with her hip. Camping on Larry's bed, she set to work pulling up and image on her phone before graphite hit the acid-free paper.

Sal sprawled next to the bed lazily, uninterested in drawing. He had left his guitar upstairs, so his only hobby besides ghost hunting was left behind.

"Sup," Larry finally greeted, not looking away from his canvas.

"Sup," Sal answered back, but Marie didn't hear him, already in her artist's zone. Neither male was dumb enough to break her out of it. "Had to give the Gear Boy to Todd this morning."

"Why?" their friend asked, putting another stroke of black against green.

"It was lighting up and blinking but there was nothing there. Even Mar said there was nothing there," Sal explained, stretching on his spot on the floor and tapping out the beats to the music. Marie didn't like metal, so she had headphones she brought with her everywhere to drowned them out. She had the odd taste of 90's and classical, some hard rock thrown in and that one blues and soul song she liked.

"Larry! Breakfast!" Lisa called from the kitchen.

"Coming! See you dudes in a few minutes," Larry called back, waving to his friends.

"I'm a woman, not a dude," Marie snarked back, before completely ignoring both males again. Sally chuckled, standing and sitting behind his sister and started to randomly braid strands of blond-highlighted black. She didn't mind, loving the feeling of fingers raking her scalp.

They sat there for a moment, their bonding time uninterrupted as Larry walked in. He smiled softly at them, the adopted siblings family in all but blood. The thought of them sharing an ancestor or something made the brunette snort.

Sal looked over, not stopping his fingers from working black strands. "What, dickhead?"

"You both look like girls at a slumber party," Larry chuckled, making his way over and peering at Marie's sketch pad. The grays somehow translated into color, the apple looking as red as the crayons Marie liked to rag on. It was realistic, the shine mirroring the three of them inside.

She was drawing, Sal was laying beside her and Larry could see himself farther back, no doubt painting. Just like they always do.

"Almost done," she informed, pulling back from the picture to give it a once over. She then stiffened, eyes wide.

"Sis?" Sal called from behind her, hugging her around her middle. Marie started to shake violently, eyes still wide with horror. "Mar? Marie?" She didn't answer. She only clung to her brother's arm, tense and frightened.

"This is a safe place, this is a safe place," she chanted, legs curling up to her chest. Larry could only watch from the side, Sal having shook his head when he approached. "Safe... safe... Sally?"

"Right here. Your safe," he assured. Sal nuzzled his sister's neck with his prosthetic, seeming to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. Her muscles loosened and she fell back into Sal's arms. "What happened?"

"Demon," was all she said, but it chilled the room. "There's something dark here. Something is following us."

"Why? What would a demon want here?" Larry asked, coming closer to sit next to them on the bed.

"The walls... they were black... I don't like this. I feel like we're being watched. Sal..."

"Right here. Nothing can hurt us. You're safe."

Sal was used to this. There were times that the energy in Addison Apartments was just too much, overloading his sister's spiritual senses, causing her to black out. It could last seconds or hours, but all Sal could do was let his energy sooth her.

A knock at the door made them all jump, watching it swing open before anyone could reject. It was Todd, their freckled, red-headed friend with the Super Gear Boy in hand. He took them in, brows knitting in concern.

"Everything okay?"

"Overload... demon... Todd, it's not safe," Marie tried, shivering softly in Sal's arms. He looked to him for translation.

"She was having a energy overload and when she came out of it she said she sensed a demon. That he was following us," he repeated, clearer in his explanation. Todd nodded.

"I think I found out why the Gear Boy was acting strange," he stated, holding it out to Marie who ignored it in favor of breathing. The screen lit up slightly, the light blinking. "As I thought. Marie is giving off a lot of energy, most likely the cause of her psychic abilities. Unless she can stem the flow, it's always going to light up around her. There isn't much I can do to make it stop."

"Be still," Marie ordered, looking up. They all followed her gaze, finding nothing but the peeling ceiling.

"What is it?" Sal asked, tense and ready to defend his sister at all cost. He shivered when he felt something wash over him, protective and worried. She had thrown up a shield, he realized. She was protecting them from something they couldn't see.

"The blackness is upstairs. Not right above us, but I would guess the fifth floor."

"Blackness?" Todd questioned before his dark orbs lit up in understanding. "The demon."

"Fuck you, too, bastard," Marie seethed and Sal could feel the shield grow a little thicker. "My family. Mine."

Having spent so much time around Marie, he had grown sensitive to her energy. She was strong, fierce, and felt like a hurricane. Whoever she deemed worth of her protection was in the eye and nothing was getting through. She was now in that protective mode, clinging her loved ones close to the eye as wind whipped fiercely.

They all paused, not wanting to break her concentration. She finally sighed, easing back into Sal fully. "That's right, bastard. Come at me." Sal felt the field thin, but not disappear. "This is serious. We need to get rid of this thing. I'm strong, but I cant shield every ghost and person in this place. Just fighting him off the four of us is tiring. He's strong, I'll give him that."

"I could try and give the Gear Boy an upgrade to help you," Todd offered, "and if I could barrow you for a moment, Marie, I could sync the Gear Boy to you so it stops glowing. I don't know if it'll work," he admitted, showing the Gear Boy in his hand for emphasis.

"'Bout time we went home, anyway. As much as I love home..." Marie sighed, looking at her brother. "I'm scared for Dad. He could be in danger on the fourth floor."

"He's at work most of the time," Sally Face reminded. "He'll be fine." She nodded, her brow still scrunched. Worried, Sal deducted. She put away her art supplies, hissing at Larry when he tried to help. No one fucked with Mar's shit.

No one.

You don't wanna know what happens when you do.

She stretched as they walked down the small hall to the elevator. Her brother stuck to her side, silent reassurance that everything was alright, hands intertwined in support. They followed Todd into his home of 202 and waved at his parents, who were sitting on the couch. Entering Todd's personal Electronic Dungeon of Nerdiness.

Or... that's what Mar called it.

"Sit on the bed and I'll begin," Todd instructed. She sat, looking at him with subtle confusion. "I'm going to try and tune it. Can you pulse your energy? Try and concentrate on the Super Gear Boy."

She closed hazel eyes, trying to feel out those around her. She had to shift through the thick air of the apartments, already charged with the energy of restless spirits. Sal's came to her with a calming wave, her personal ocean chilling her frayed nerves. Todd's was green, his curiosity making his aura flex around him. She focused on Todd, looking at his spiritual image to the little device in his hands.

It was cold, but it gave off a static, white energy. She tried to pull herself closer to it, letting it scan her. She could feel it eat some of her aura, taking it in before it beeped, signaling her to return to the living world. Marie retreated slowly, having learned her lesson about leaving her meditative state quickly.

A horrible migraine and a nosebleed.

Now, she only had a slight headache, her nose clear of blood. Sally looked her over, noticing her slight discomfort.

"Just a headache," Marie assured.

"It seems to have worked. It isn't glowing anymore. Hopefully, that will stop any false alarms," Todd informed, putting the Gear Boy on his desk to tinker with it later.

"Cool," Marie smiled, looking at the dark screen with interest. "I'm going home to take a nap. I've used too much energy today."

"You earned it," Todd agreed, letting the siblings leave to go home. Once there, Marie snuggled on the couch with Gizmo, their ginger cat. Sal smiled, putting the old kettle on the stove and taking out the preferred herbal tea his sister drank like he did coffee.

Sally moved back to his adopted family and pet, letting the female lean on him. Fingers laced and heads braced on each other, they fell into a comfortable silence. Soon, the kettle was screeching, the whistle loud in the silence of the apartment. Sal uncurled from his sibling's side to fix her tea. A drop of apple cider vinegar and a teaspoon of sugar to dull the edge.

He didn't hand it to her, knowing that she wouldn't touch it until it was room temperature. The smell of earth and vinegar drifted through their home as Marie tried to work off the headache with meditation. He cuddled beside her again, letting her snuggle into his neck and capture his hand.

"We have school tomorrow," she groaned, finally remembering it was Sunday.

"Yup," Sally answered, popping the 'p'. "You gotta deal with people, Mar-Mar." The nickname made her smile, stroking Gizmo's fur.

"Sally," she moaned out, "I don' wanna!"

Oh, the world was going to end. She had to interact with people.

Now, she may not be a people person, but she had this aura that made people flock to her. Everyone used her as a councilor, well, the girls did. Marie was such an easy person to talk to, and he had heard more times than he can count that people had slipped and went on a rant that wasn't supposed to happen.

Sal understood. She was always there, accepting anything that came her way. Now, he was not saying she was a doormat, no, no. His adopted sister was the dog waiting at the window for the thief. She was open-minded, accepting peoples oddities for what they were with little trouble.

Todd was gay, his boyfriend Neil one of the coolest people Sal knew. Marie was the one to get money from Larry, losing a bet foolishly. You didn't bet with Marie when it came to reading people. It was a fact that she was always right.

Larry had thought he was cursed, but she had only rolled her eyes, sass clear behind her round, blue frames. "You're an idiot," she had said. "You're not cursed. I would have smelled it on you." But she didn't make fun of him. Never has.

And Sal...

Sal's face was something from nightmares... but she loved him. She would make him take it off when they were alone, saying she hated the mask more than his face. She had once called him beautiful...

Marie finally picked up her cup, cradling it with both hands. She sipped it, humming at the taste.

"I don't see how you drink that," Sally stated, and Marie could imagine him wrinkling his nose.

"Have you ever tried it?" she snarked back, holding the cooled cup out to him. He flinched back from it and made a cross from his fingers.

"Back, demon!" he shouted, making them both giggle. "I did, actually. You had gone to the bathroom and I thought I could be sneaky and drink your tea. It was sooo bad." Marie laughed, holding the mug by the handle and started to pet Gizmo who was still in her lap.

"That's what you get!" Marie chuckled. "Trying to drink my tea. What a horrible person you are." Sally Face laughed.

"Yeah, I kinda earned that one," he agreed. He felt something pull on one of his pigtails, but he didn't need to look to know that Marie hand hooked an arm around him and started to play with his hair.

"Your hair is so pretty," she cooed. "You should leave it down more often. You look good with it down."

"Yeah? Well, I like it to not be in my face."

"Sally's face," she snorted. Sal only rolled his crystal-blue eyes at her. "Didn't you say you wanted a nap?"

"Sort of," she droned. "I am tired, but I'm not sleepy. Just need a rest. I'm too wired to go to sleep anyway. You know I've never like the dark, but this is awful."

He did know. She went into a full out panic when he had closed her door to the hallway light at their old house on Jersey. She had cried for a hour afterwards, calling out to her brother for comfort. He was there in a heartbeat. He never asked why, but she had told him anyways.

"The shadows are a dangerous place, little brother. If you let it, it'll eat your soul. I feel like the darkness is watching me, waiting for me to be weak... I cant let it in."

The experience with the demon must have rattled that fear loose. She had gotten better, the dark not scaring her and confined spaces aren't as much of a problem. It was people that made her nervous.

Marie was never good with people, always awkward and blunt. In crowds, she was even worse. Should she not have someone familiar by her side, she shuts down, full panic gripping her heart. It was this phobia that led her to the weekly therapy sessions their dad paid for.

They never helped. They only made her angry.

She didn't like snoops, and that's what therapists are paid to do. It was this and her naturally short fuse that quickly got her in trouble. She was supposed to take meds, and Sally had seen them disappear by the bottle. He had a sneaky suspicion she sold them.

It didn't bother him, to be honest. She didn't need them. There were even more now, in their cabinet. Higher doses because they 'weren't working'. That, and some pill that was supposed to stop her 'seizures'. That's what they called her spiritual episodes, which Sal guess was a close enough comparison.

She never took either.

0oo00oo0

"Your sister was on medication?" the doctor asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes. She never took them, as I've said. She didn't really need them."

"Hm. She fights anyone who comes near her. She's always asking for you. I've been trying to get them to let you see her, but it isn't going well," Dr. Enon explained.

"If I could see her... Could you... really let me see her?" Sally asked, blue eyes desperate. "She's the only one I have..."

"And that is your fault, currently," Dr. Enon sighed. "She right in there with Todd. He's not doing any better, either."

"I could make her better. Me and her have something special. She could make Todd better!"

"Now, Sal, calm down," Enon spoke gently. "I will do what I can."

He nodded, happiness filling his chest.

"Thanks."

0oo00oo0

In his prison jumper and his wrists bound, Sally made his way through white walls, heart soaring. Dr. Enon had done it. He was going to see her.

He was let inside the white, padded room, cuffs unlocked and a guard at the door.

"Mar-Mar?" he called, looking about. He found her on the bed, but it made his heart sink.

She was in white, just like the rest of the room. She didn't have on a straight jacket on, white was good. Marie was holder her knees to her chest, her hair now the natural, chestnut brown. The tips were black from when she had dyed it all those years ago. Her skin was pale instead of the tanned, red tone her Native American heritage brought out. Not enough sun.

She lifted her head, hazel-blue eyes looking at him in disbelief. Her cheeks were sunken, obviously not eating as she should. Too many drugs, most likely, were another cause.

"Sally Face?" she questioned. Hope lit her eyes. "Your the real one, right?"

"Yeah, Mar. It's me."

"What do I put in my coffee?

"You liked tea better, but you put two teaspoons of sugar and mil in your tea when you drink it."

Her eyes watered and she couldn't get up fast enough. She charged at him, almost making him fall over when they collided.

"Sal!" Marie cried. "Sal. Sal, Sal!"

"Yeah, it's me," he reassured. "I'm so sorry. I'm the reason you're here. I never meant for this to happen."

"They don't believe me... no one believes us."

"Us?"

"They've driven me insane here... Sal I want to go home. I want to leave," she sobbed, clinging to her younger brother as if for dear life. "Because they've deemed me insane, I cant help with your case. You didn't kill them for nothing. They were already done."

"I know, but they don't understand."

"Your times up, Sally Face," the guard said from the door, but Marie had other ideas.

"Your not taking him from me. Never again!" she screamed, and Sal could feel her energy spike. He stepped between them, covering her view of the guard. Cupping her face, he tried to bring her back to him.

"Mar-Mar? Calm down. It's okay. We'll see each other again-"

"No... no. I wont let these humans take you from me again." She spat the word like it burned her lips, eyes hard expression cold. He turned to the guard, calling for him to run. His sister would show no mercy.

The guard collapsed, his soul damaged by a wave of pressure. He looked at his sister, eyes wide. She might have been ruthless, but she would have never killed someone. Never...

"I wont let them take you again," she chocked out. "Your my baby brother. I'm supposed to protect you."

0oo00oo0

Marie woke up, eyes stilled closed but ears on full alert. She was a light sleeper, so it may have been nothing. Dad coming home or something. It wasn't.

Sal was tossing and turning again in his sleep, whimpers and moans leaving his throat. Marie sighed. Sitting up and swinging her legs over the bed, she marched quietly over to her brother. Squeezing into his space, Marie hugged him close but didn't wake him, letting the nightmare ride itself out. He would wake up in a panic if she did.

Arms were around his waist, nose nuzzled into his neck to take in his scent. Back-to-chest.

A gasp left him as shivers and goosebumps plagued his skin. Sal panted as he tried to make sense of the world around him. There was warmth on his back, curling around him protectively while the feeling of calm tried to invade his senses.

Marie. She was right there next to him, warming the chill of death that had settled over him. She didn't speak, never asking what they were about or if he wanted to talk. Marie only waited, seeing if he would tell her. He normally didn't, but she was still there if he needed her.

"Go back to sleep, baby brother," she encouraged.

"I'm sorry for waking you," he breathed through scared lips. She kissed his neck before snuggling closer.

0oo00oo0

"Ugh."

"It's just school."

"UGHH," she groaned louder, leaning onto her taller friend, her half-mask digging into his shoulder. Marie wore a festive mask in support of her brother, and no one had dared confront her about it. It had red petals around the eye holes and red and black swirls slithering around to fill it out. The nose was painted black and Larry had once teased that she looked like a kitten. Turned out she was one of their much bigger brethren.

Larry chuckled. "Yeah, Ash. Don't you know humans suck?" he questioned their only other female friend.

"We are humans," Ashley retorted, smirk on her lips. Her green eyes shined in mirth, long, brown hair kept down. A purple shirt went to her thighs, a black choker matching her pants. Gray tennis-shoes protected her feet.

"Bold of you to assume," Marie sang, standing up straight again.

"She's adopted," Sal quickly added, as if to save his reputation. Marie whipped around to look at him, hand clapping to her chest as if to calm a racing heart.

"Brother! Why have you betrayed me?" she gasped, falling dramatically against Larry, who barely caught her with a grunt.

"I don't associate myself with aliens."

"I thought you were going to say demons. I was going to roast your ass alive," Marie huffed, disappointed her chance was ruined. The bell rang, signaling the start of class. The groups geniuses (read: nerds), Marie and Todd followed along easily. Larry was half asleep. Both Sal and Ashley looked a bit lost but were taking notes anyway.

Sal had learned his lesson about notes. If he didn't had evidence that he at least paid attention, his sister would lift her pink to help him. "Gotta help yourself before I help you~"

She is such a dick.

Soon, lunch rolled around, letting the gang chill around their normal table eating whatever the fuck this shit was made of.

Not any meat Sally could identify. That is why he and Marie had homemade lunches that Marie had fixed. Of course, they had to fend off their friends.

"But I'm your best friend, Sally Face!" Larry whined, trying to steal a bite of the white rice, vegetables and chicken. Soy sauce, of course, was on the top of the pile. Not too much, mind you, because Marie was concerned for his health.

"Larry Face," Sal sighed from behind his blank mask, "my big sister made this just for me. Let me enjoy it."

"You two should get married," Marie commented offhandedly, making both boys turn crimson. She could imagine a cute anime blush drawn on Sal's mask.

"Homos," came a sneer, and everyone rolled their eyes, mood ruined.

Travis Phelps was a blond boy, long-sleeve pink shirt and blue shorts bottomed out with green sneakers that didn't hide his gray socks. Marie was the only one in the group that even slightly tolerated the boy.

She looked at him from behind her half-mask, glare sharp as he walked over. He was approaching Sally, which was very bold of him with Marie around. She would deck him if she even sniffed trouble. Larry watched her, gaze flickering between her and the approaching teen. She was laid back, relaxed and loose. Her gaze was on Travis, but she seemed unthreatened.

"Is he your little boyfriend now?" Travis sneered, getting snickers from around the room. Sally ignored him, lifting his mask a bit to eat another bite of his sister's amazing cooking. "Hey I'm speaking to you!"

"And I am ignoring you," Sally replied calmly. Marie then tensed, which made all of the team tense.

"Beat it, Travis. No one was talking to you," Larry snarled, defending his friend.

"Yeah, Travis. Why cant you just leave us alone?" Ash hissed, crossing her arms over her chest. Marie said nothing.

"I wasn't talking to you either. Answer me, Sally face," he spat, growling as he just took another bite of food. Fed up with being ignored, he grabbed the edge of Sal's mask...

and pulled.

The straps snapped, ripping it off the boy's face. He ducked, putting hands over his face. He didn't see what happened, but he heard a viper snap at her pray.

"Don't fucking touch my brother. I will end you so fast, you wont be able to see your blood splatter on the walls."

His sister had saved him, his prosthetic scrapping on the tile as she picked it up.

"Move your hands, baby brother. I'm covering you, don't worry," she assured softly. He trusted her, moving his hands and letting her place the mask on his face. He had to hold it, the straps broken. "All better," Marie cheered, getting out of Sally's space. He looked, find Travis Phelps on the ground with the fear of God in his eyes. His eye was swelling, a bruise already forming on his cheekbone.

Marie turned to Phelps one last time, making him flinch back. "I'm warning all of you now. I'll beat the shit out of every one of you. Don't fuck with my family." Then she gathered both her and her brother's lunch boxes, leading him out with her.

"Your not even related!" Travis yelled, trying to collect himself. "Your an unwanted orphan who was picked up!"

"Family isn't about blood," Marie stated wisely, not turning to look at him. "Family is who you'll die for. Who you would do anything for. Sally, Larry, Ash, all of my friends. I would die for them. They're family."

She then walked out with the grace and badassery of a goddess, her brother trailing her.

0oo00oo0

In the end, her and her brother were able to go home, Sal because of his mask and Marie because she was suspended for the day. Not that she cared, to be honest. She was going to go home with her brother anyway, whether they 'let her' or not. When they got home... they found out quickly that their father was home.

"Sup, Dad," Marie called casually, walking away to get the sewing kit.

"You're both home early. Something happen?" Henry Fisher asked his children before he realized Sally was holding his mask instead of it strapped behind his head. "Sal? What happened to your mask, bud?"

"Long story," Sal dodged, but his sister eagerly gave details.

"This little brat thought he was funny and ripped the straps. He was lying on the cafeteria floor with a rather nice shiner when we left," Marie chimed, walking back into the living room.

"And that's why your home. You got kicked out," Henry sighed. He stroked his sky-blue beard, hair the same color as Sal's. Matching eyes closed as he exhaled. His grey long-sleeve wrinkled as he sunk into the couch, brown pants riding up with the movement. "What am I going to do with you? You know I'm proud of you for defending your brother, but Marie, you cant be getting kicked out of school. You have such a bright future."

"And Travis can only see his with one eye," she joked, setting the large box on the counter to finish the conversation before Sal vanished into their room to hide from their father.

"That's not what's bothering you, Mar-Mar," he claimed, using her favored nickname that Sal had so cutely called her when they were young. "What happened, darling?"

She hated when he did that. Looked through her.

"He..." she paused, eyes dark behind her half-mask. "He told me I was an unwanted orphan that you happened to pick up. Like I was a stay dog." Marie's voice trailed off, her muscles taught with both rage and sadness.

"Mar," Sal called, heart breaking for his adopted sister. Marie Fisher was adopted after the death of his mother and the accident that took his face, his father claiming they needed a 'female touch'. His sister was one of the best things that had happened to Sal and his father, and they tell her every day.

But, despite how much they assure her, her adoption was a sore spot for the sixteen-year-old. She drowned in her sadness when she thought of before she had met them. Something happened, Sal knew, and what it was... he may never know.

"Marie, honey," Henry cooed, approaching cautiously. There was two way physical affection could go in times like this. It could throw her into a 'seizure' or she would cuddle you for eternity. "You know that isn't true."

"Is it?" she questioned, taking off her mask and letting the porcelain clunk on the counter. "Aren't I the stray no one wanted? They monster they thought I was?"

That was new. Who thought she was a monster?

"Monster, sis? You're not a monster. Never have I heard of a monster defending family, or loving her friends to the point of where she would die for them," Sally consoled, getting closer to his sister in all but blood than his father dared.

Her shoulders shook, but she nodded. "Come on, Sal. Gotta fix it before school tomorrow." Marie made her way to their room, box in hand. Sal sighed, following obediently.

He closed the door behind them, sitting on her bed, since it was the closest to the door. She sat in a bean bag she had stolen from Larry across from his, needle already in hand and being threaded. His mask, which was taken as soon as the door had closed, was sitting in her lap, face-down.

Sal could feel her frustration, the grumbling under her bed enough to prove it. When she finally situated the needle, she stuck it through the worn leather, knitting it together skillfully.

Sal watched, hands in his lap. Marie quietly worked, deep in thought it seemed. Both of them kept the silence, letting it drift between them comfortably, neither wanting to break it.

"All done," Marie breathed out, not wanting to ruin the calm atmosphere. She got up and walked over to her brother, but paused. Instead of putting the mask on, she set it aside and start to take out his pigtails.

Sal didn't argue, letting her nails scratch his scalp and rake through blue strands. Marie crawled behind him, grabbing her brush from her stand. She brushed them out, making sure all the tangles were still out from this morning. Satisfied, she braided the long strands, the braid reaching to the middle of his shoulder blades.

Crawling around again, Marie straddled her brother's lap and put the mask up to his face to hold. She clipped the straps into place, pulling a bit to make sure her stitches would hold.

"Is it tight?" she asked, making sure her was comfortable.

"No, it's fine," Sal assured. He looked up at her, noticing the sad expression she was giving him. She touched their foreheads together, closing her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Marie asked, linking their hands together. "That was pretty bad."

"You're more upset than I am," Sally spoke honestly. Blue eyes gazed at her, one false and another real, full of concern. "Are you alright, sis?"

"I... You all know that I don't... hate Travis. There's a reason for that. I'm not going to tell you, but what he does is only backlash. He has a hard time, so... try not to be too mad at him," Marie begged.

Sal pulled her close, snuggling into her neck as she rested her head on his. "You knocked him pretty good. So much for being nice," he joked. Marie chuckled, so he took that as a victory.

"While I might not hate him, I sure as shit wont choose him over family." Sal breathed out a laugh, then a thought passed him by.

"The others are probably worried."

"They're giving us space. They will all be home soon. We can talk to them later... Right now, I don't wanna deal with people." Sal nodded, relaxing into the hold they had. No one, dead or alive, could pull them apart now. Marie, with her sharp ears, heard the front door open and close, signalling they were alone.

"Hey, Sal? Have you ever thought about letting me decorate your mask?" Marie asked, looking at her pencils and sketchpad longingly. She had already thought of several, and it wasn't like she was going to use anything permanent. Oh, my God. That was it. "I can use something washable and if you don't like it, we can wash it. We could do a different design every day. That would be cool."

Sal chuckled at her excitement. "I don't see why not. As long as you don't give me any Day of the Dead shit."

"Aw, but those masks are so pretty! No appreciation." Sal laughed again, watching as his sister's heavy aura dissipated. The hurricane was slowing, defense softening while they were alone. He watched her gather make-up from the bathroom, which surprised Sal. She owned make-up? "We'll use this, since I only use it every blue moon anyway. I used this as the trial and error for my mask."

Marie set to work, making Sal sit against the wall with his legs out so she could use him as a chair. He let her, not going to argue over something he knew he would lose. She went to start, pulling out beautiful hues of pink and blue, purples of every shade came into view along with a complementary orange.

She was muttering to herself, looking over the different things she had pulled out, mostly eye-shadow and blush. She reached for once of her small sponges, picking up a palate of pale colors. Marie turned again, looking at his mask, eyes narrowed. Dipping her weapon of choice into a selected poison, she reached out for him, but he lightly grabbed her wrist to stop her.

Marie looked at him in concern and confusion, waiting for Sal to collect himself.

"Could you..." he started, pausing to recollect his thoughts and calm his heart. "Could you make me... look more... human?"

Marie paused, shocked at the request. A soft smile spread across her face, eyes lighting in the dim lights of their room. Their sanctuary away from everything. Their haven... something they shared with no one.

She kissed his forehead, sending spikes of nostalgia and sadness down Sal's spine. Marie let her lips rest there for a moment, her free hand brushing back the long strands of his bangs that fell out of the braid to frame his face. Marie sat back, looking at Sally softly. He could see his mother's kind, smiling face, the one she gave him when she said-

"I love you." Sal looked at her blankly before closing his eyes in a smile.

"Love you, too, Mar." Marie nodded and continued on her mission, a new goal in mind. Sal watched in fascination as she worked, brows furrowed in an almost angry expression. Silence reigned, which seemed to only seemed to annoy her more.

"Stay," Marie ordered, getting up and letting the circulation back into his legs. He watched her grab the cell that the government had given her, one of those new touch-screens that cost way too much. Marie was positive it was to track her, given the record she had.

When Sal had asked what she meant when she said record, she would only smile sourly and say:

"Do you think I've been this mello? This is puppy shit compared what I used to do."

Those words carried more weight than she let on, but he never pressed.

She snatched the phone off the charger and clicked on YouTune, the phone snatching wifi from somewhere. One of her favorite songs started to play, making her smile. Now relaxed, she began to sing a bit off-tune to the song.

"Seven-headed Hydra livin' in my swimmin' pool~" Marie sang, tapping her fingers on her brush as she applied it to the mask. It had an old-timey vibe to it, that one that made you want to tap your foot or something, to move. She was weird, and her choice in music was even weirder.

Finally finished and satisfied, Marie nodded to herself before turning off the music. She got off of him and grabbed his wrist, hauling him up and out of the room. They burst into the bathroom, letting him look into the mirror.

He was stunned.

There were pale colors to complement the off cream of the mask, the darker gray part over his right eye playing a part design. Gray flames encroached on his right eye, going no farther. Pale, but natural blush dusted over the mask, making it look more like very pale skin instead of the porcelain it really was. Gray swirls curled around his left eye, balancing it out. The lips of the mask were colored a light pink, making them shine, along with the bridge of his nose.

"Marie..." Sal breathed, looking at the artwork that was now his mask. "Can I keep it?"

She chuckled, smile warm. "How about this? Next time we do this, I'll do all the natural colors and put a coat of waterproof protection on it. Then, we can layer designs on it without having to redo things like your nose and lips."

He nodded slowly, not wanting to ruin the powdered perfection. Marie tilted her head, as if listening to something before giving him a 'one minute'. Sal just continued to stare into the mirror, flabbergasted. He looked so much more... alive. Less like a blank puppet.

"Give him a minute, Lar. He's freaking out," Sal heard Marie joke, holding the new walkie talkies that Sal had bought like he'd promised. Sal snatched the walkie, almost breaking the poor button in his rush to push it.

"Dude, you don't understand. We'll be down there in a minute to show you. Give us two seconds," Sal rushed out, clipping the walkie to his pants before grabbing his giggling sister and practically ran to the elevator right next door to their apartment.

"Are you alright? You seemed pretty freaked out earlier. You sure you're okay, Sally Face?" came Larry's voice from the walkie, which was snatched by Marie before Sal could answer. He was tapping his foot impatiently, wishing the elevator would go faster.

"He's fine now. I'm more worried about what you did to Travis when we left," Marie drawled.

"I wanted to beat his ass," Larry hissed as the elevator dinged at the basement level, "but controlled myself. You knocked him pretty good."

"Let us in, Larry Face," Marie requested through the walkie, listening to door click and open. It wasn't Larry, but his mother, Lisa, who was there.

"Hey, you two. Heard you had a rough day," Lisa stated, letting them in. Sal rushed to Larry's room, yelling a 'hi, Lisa!' behind him. She only chuckled, shaking her head.

"We did, but I took care of it," Marie assured, smiling at her mother figure.

"Mhm," Lisa hummed, untrusting. Marie slapped a hand to her chest, offended. Lisa only laughed, making Marie chuckle right along with her. "So, what was Sally so excited about?"

"I did his make-up," Marie stated simply. Lisa rose a brow. "On his mask. He was so happy that he had to run down here and show Larry."

"You came pretty fast. He only just got home," Lisa observed, putting her hands on her hips.

"He called us via walkie," Marie clarified. "Sal freaked out and was like 'sis, we gotta show Lar' and ran out of the apartment like a madman."

Lisa chuckled, looking to the bedroom that her son had claimed all those years ago. "Well, I'm glad he's happy. I have to go to work, old pipes acting up."

"Mhm," Marie nodded, sick of only getting cold showers. "Hey, Lisa?"

She turned from the doorway, brow raised.

"Happen to have and clear protective stuff? Sal wanted to keep the design on his mask but it's only blush and stuff."

Lisa's brows furrowed in thought, going through all her tools. "I'll see what I can find."

"You're the best, Mom!" Before Lisa could comment, Maire was gone. She smiled softly, shaking her head and closing the apartment door behind her.

In Larry's room, Sal was having a mini attack as he tried to explain to Larry how cool his mask was.

"Dude, for real. She works magic, man!" Sal claimed, pacing as Larry just grinned in his place on the bed. Marie came through the door, and Larry couldn't contain himself.

"You have a worshiper, Goddess of the Arts," Larry chuckled.

"'Bout damn time," she joked back, flipping her long hair. "Hey, Sal? Lisa is looking for a sealer for you mask, so don't worry bud."

A phone started to ring, heavy metal playing for its ring tone. Larry fished it out of his jeans, looking at the ID. He flipped it open and and hit the green button.

"Sup, Mom," he identified, putting it on speaker. "You're on speaker."

"I wanted to let Marie know that I found some porcelain seal. It's supposed to be for sinks and the like, but it's clean and it'll work. Just gotta grab a paintbrush."

"You're the best, Lisa!" Marie cheered, grin streaking across her face.

"Love you, too, darlin'," she chuckled. "Bye, kids. Don't get into too much trouble."

"Us? Trouble? No way!" Sal joked. They all said their goodbyes and hung up, Sal attacking his sister in a hug, careful not to rub his mask on her. "I'm so happy! It looks so good!"

"You're welcome, human. I require offerings of chocolate and tea to keep this gift," Marie demanded playfully. Sal and Larry fell on their knees, bowing before her.

"Great Goddess of Make-up, please grant us your blessing!" Larry pleaded, a chuckle following after. Marie put her boot on Sal's shoulder, throwing her nose in the air haughtily.

"I suppose you could have it, human. Go, away with you," she ordered, lifting her foot off of Sal and turning on her heel to go raid the stash of tea she left here. Lisa drank coffee and Larry favored energy drinks, so she didn't have worry about them stealing her precious tea. She could hear the boys cracking up as she left, making her let out her own chuckle.


	4. Dipper pawn

Ford rubbed his eyes, the darkness encasing his lab not helping the headache that was blooming behind the bridge of his nose. Six fingers wrapped around the handle of his coffee mug, taking a sip of the pitch-black liquid. As he went to set it down, slim, delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist, more of them taking the cup from him.

Startled, Ford went for his gun, but settled down only a little when he seen who it was.

He was in his more humanoid form, strawberry blond hair reaching past his hips to tease his thighs. Bright, golden eyes all demons seemed to share blazing in the darkness, staring at Ford as he took a sip of the coffee he had stolen. He was pale, nearly glowing in the dim lights of the lab, the green light from different electronics and tubes making him look sickly. He was clad in gray sweats and a white, sleeveless t-shirt, feet bare.

"You scared me," Ford chuckled, rubbing at his heart through his green trench coat and white button-up. His black slacks blended in with the low lighting and his brown boots were still muddy. Dark eyes drooped behind glasses, hand combing through fluffy, brown hair. He chuckled as the demon wrinkled his nose and set the coffee down.

"How you drink it like that astounds me, Doctor Ford," the demon drawled, his voice smooth, seductive and sweet.

"I've told you to call me Ford, Abez," the scientist chuckled, going back to racking his brain for another answer to an equation.

"You need to sleep, Sixer. Your exhausted, only lasting on this nightmare of a drink. Come to bed, friend, and rest," Abez called, appearing behind the man and gently grabbing his wrists. He set his chin on Ford's shoulder, making the man glace at him.

Ford sighed. "Yeah, your right. As always." He ran a hand over his face, yawning. Abez watched him walk off, heading toward the spare bed they kept down here for Ford's late nights. Nodding in approval, he disappeared to check on the man's lab partner, finding him asleep in his own home. Satisfied, he traveled miles away, faster than a human could blink, drawn to a source of energy he was so familiar with.

He was sleeping in his car again, shivering in the cold. He looked just like Ford, if a bit broader. Abez's eyes softened, hand falling onto the window. He couldn't help him, not without a deal, but he could watch over him for Ford. He knew the man cared deeply for his twin, though there was a lingering anger clinging to it.

He sighed, letting himself sink into the ground, being pulled through dimensions and into his home. Shadows licked at his heels, his skin turning red and his hair darkening to a crimson. Horns curled from his forehead to the back of his neck, though not quite reaching it. A single wing curled around him, hugging up to his chest and covering his left side. His right eye's sclera turned black, his demonic heritage shinning through once more.

He dropped into his throne, sighing and stretching his wing comfortably over the side. He braced his head with his right hand, a headache forming.

"Your in too deep with him, Sixer. I hope my angelic brethren watch over you."

0oo00oo0

"Stanford!" Stanley screamed, reaching fruitlessly for the man disappearing into the light blue of the portal. The man threw the journal in his hands, but it was not caught by his twin. Pale, delicate hands caught it by the spine. With an apologetic look, pink lips curled into a hurting smile.

"I'll take care of him, Doctor Ford. Go, and know that he is safe." Ford nodded, gratefulness clouding his eyes. He was sucked though, the portal powering down.

"NO!" Stanley called out rushing around the advanced technology, trying to get the portal to power back on.

"It will not work, Stanley," Abez called, cradling the book in his arms as if it were the most precious thing. "He is gone."

"Bring him back!" Stan shouted, tears pooling in his eyes and streaking down his cheeks. "I want my brother back!"

"I cant do that, Stanley," Abez denied, shaking his head, feeling the emptiness of loss create a hole in his chest. "Not without taking your soul as the bargaining chip." Stan looked at him wide-eyed, fully taking in the man that had suddenly appeared. His blue eyes glittered with something otherworldly, powerful and full of regret.

"He will come back, but only with your help," Abez assured, running his fingers over the golden, six-fingered hand print on the cover of the book, a bold '1' on the cover. Abez seemed to think for a second, cautious and reluctant, before offering the bound parchment to the twin. "He wanted you to have this. Know that every word in the book is true, and that there are three of the journals scattered about. You have only the first, and all three have the key to recalling Doctor Ford to you. Good luck, Stanley."

As soon as Stanley had a firm grasp on the old book, the stranger vanished in the snakes of shadows and vines of darkness that crawled up his form and whisked him off.

0oo00oo0

Dipper Pines narrowed his eyes at the book in his hands, a '3' written in sharpie on a six-fingered, golden hand. He opened the cover, 'The Property of --' sparking his interest. The name was ripped off, 'Vol. 3' in beautiful loops on the next page. As he ventured through the book, he came across a two-page entry.

The male drawn there was handsome, slim neck and sharp jaw. A single wing hung from his left shoulder, draping over the throne he was sitting in. His long hair rested around him, a piece dangling between two horns that curled around his skull. A Roman toga hanging off of his shoulders. His right sclera was colored black, the other the normal white. His irises had been colored, which was odd, and were a bright gold.

Reading the notes, which were in a different scrawl than the rest of the journal, Dipper felt his brows disappear into his bangs.

'Abezthibou

Species: Demon Class: King

This is the rumored King of Demons. His power is unmatched but his tone is either gentle or uncaring to the rest of the world. He, unlike most demons, he can appear in our realm in a perfectly physical form.

Conclusion: Harmless until angered '

There were added notes, these ones in the familiar loops of The Author.

'He has odd habits. His eyes blaze red when upset and blue when he's sad. The color of his eyes seem to be a window to his emotions. He like sweets, milk and sugar in his coffee. He can teleport, or move too fast to see, or both. He seems to have control over shadows, but he hasn't shown me much. Open, but closed off at the same time. He lets me call him Abez.'

It seemed The Author really liked this demon. He seemed peaceful enough, through the notes. It had a class to it, which was odd. He figured it was a demon thing. Turning the page, Dipper's eyes widened. It was blacked out with ink, eyes in red glaring back up at him. He quickly turned the page, coming across another demon.

'Bill Cipher

Species: (Dream) Demon Class: Lord

He can only appear in dreams, the 'Mindscape', he calls it. He has to possess someone to interact with the physical world. He was worshiped in a lot of religions, his image spread out over different ruins.

Conclusion: Fr-

DO NOT SUMMON AT ALL COST.'

It was written in read marker over whatever the ink had said. A chill ran down Dipper's spine. He noticed the change in writing, adding the third party to mind. He found the second writer putting his own notes in, and what he had to say startled the young Pines.

'Trust not a word he says, for they are layered in lies. His words always have a double meaning, and you must find it and destroy it with wit. He was banished from the demon's realm for a reason, cast aside to wander the Nightmare Realm. Trickery is his specialty, so beware, human, of what you do.'

Human? Does this mean that the second writer was a demon? Connecting the dots, he turned back two pages, to the image of a smiling, King-class demon.

The second writer was Abezthibou...

"Dip 'n Dot!" came the screech of his twin sister, her hair the same shade of brown and eyes just as dark as his own. She had hers held back by a pink headband- his by his old, brown hat- matching her pink sweater with a purple cat on it. A blue skirt swayed around her legs. She clung to the blue vest that hung over his red t-shirt.

"Hi, Mabel," Dipper chuckled, dropping the book onto his bed and wrapping his arms around his sister so she didn't fall off the bed.

"Whatcha reading? Some nerd thing? Oo! He's cute!" she squealed, looking at the person in the picture. "What is his name? It's hard to read."

"The Author called him Abez," Dipper explained. "I don't know if it was just a nickname or if he only allowed The Author to call him that."

"Anyways, Grunkle Stan wants us to help in the shop!" Mabel announced cheerfully, her braces flashing in the light. Dipper sighed, rolling his eyes. Getting up, leaving the journal, Dipper followed his twin down from the attic to the gift shop.

Pale, thin finger picked up the journal, flipping through a few pages fondly. Brushing his fingers over his own artwork, a smile etching its way onto his face, his eyes lighting up a healthy gold and a icy blue. He closed it, pressing the top of the cover to his lips.

"I miss you, old friend."

0oo00oo0

Dipper looked up from placing more bumper stickers in the bowl, having heard the bell to the shop ring. Who he saw struck him.

Brown eyes were warm and strawberry blond hair was braided down his back, reaching his hips, gray weaving through it with age and stress. He was tall, maybe even taller than their Grunkle. He wore comfortable looking grey sweats, red t-shirt a dark crimson. He didn't wear any shoes, but you could barely tell as his pants brushed the floor. He sent a soft smile at him, making Dipper blink.

"I haven't seen you here. What is your name? You look a little young to be working," the stranger greeted, sending a brief wave to Wendy, who was only gawking at him. He had a slang to his words, an accent he couldn't place.

"Dipper Pines, you?"

"I get called many things, but you can call me Keir."

"That's fancy," Mabel butted in, "are you not from around here?"

"I was born in Ireland, but came here to vacation," he explained.

"I'm Mabel, Dipper's twin!" she beamed, holding out a hand for him to shake, he grabbed it, putting the back of it to his lips briefly before letting it go. Mable giggled, her face lighting up in a blush.

"Pines... You're related to Stanford?" Keir asked, scanning the twins once more. Definitely related.

"He's our Gruncle," Dipper informed, wracking his brain to try and figure out where he had seen this man before. The man chuckled, amused by the name.

"Do you know if he's in? I know I came in during work hours, but I wanted to speak with him," Keir questioned.

"He's probably doing a tour," Wendy piped up, "and if your such good friends with Stan, how come I've never seen you."

The red-heads stared at each other for a moment before Keir chuckled.

"I went back home for a while. I only now got back to Gravity Falls. It's nice to see you again, Wendy." Wendy glared, suspicious.

"How do you know me?"

"I know your father. Am I getting interrogated?" Keir chuckled, flicking his brown eyes to a door as a disgruntled Stan in his Mystery Man suit stumbled up to them. His eyes landed on Keir, eyes growing wide.

"Hey, it's been a while."

"Indeed, it has." Keir smiled fondly at him before a flush of embarrassment crept into his cheeks. "Ah, I wanted to speak with you. I currently don't have a place to stay, and I was hoping you could bunk me until I could find a place."

"What happened to your place?"

"It... fell into disrepair. I could fix it up, but that would take even more time."

"Why not stay at the hotel?" Wendy questioned, walking over to the group. Keir wrinkled his nose. "You're right," she chuckled.

"Ya can stay here as long as you need. You could have that spare room. It hasn't been washed in thirty years, but eh," Stan shrugged.

"We have a spare room?" Dipper blinked.

"Oh! That old room? It really hasn't been taken care of? Stan Pines," he scolded lightly, playfully hitting his arm.

"Hey! I'm not young anymore!" he barked, rubbing his shoulder. Keir only laughed.

"And I'm a spring buck? Stan, I'm only a few years younger than you," he laughed. "It seems I've kept in better shape, though. Cutting it loose, Pines?" Their Grunkle grumbled, waving him off with a 'go clean you room or something'. "He sounded like he was scolding a child. He should know better than that."

"So you're living with us?" Mabel asked, eyes practically growing twice in size, glistening in hope.

"It seems so," he confirmed, ruffling her hair. "Well, young man," he began, turning to Dipper, "Do you mind helping me carry a few cases? Nothing big." Dipper nodded, following the man out to the porch to three smaller suitcases and a rather large travel bag. The older man grabbed the travel bag and a suitcase, leaving Dipper with two, rather light, cases.

They moved them upstairs, stopping in front of a wall. The Irishman wrinkled his nose, dropping his bags.

"Really, Stan," he grumbled. "I should at least be able to get to the door." Dipper went to question, but was silenced when Keir ripped the wallpaper, revealing a door. "He was probably half asleep putting up wallpaper, knowing him. Didn't even bother to remember there's a door here."

Dipper snickered. That did sound like his uncle. Dipper gazed around the room in awe. A blue carpet sat in the middle, which Keir eyed cautiously. A rather large couch sat under the boarded window. There was a covered mirror, which sat next to a cluttered desk. An inch of dust cluttered everything, making the Irishman sigh.

"Looks like I have a bit of cleaning to do." He walked in, setting his things next to the door. His first act was to roll up the carpet, but Dipper caught the tag as he set down the suitcases he was carrying.

"'Experiment 78'... but it's a carpet," Dipper quizzed, making Keir chuckle.

"This thing probably can electrocute you or something. Heaven only knows with this place," he laughed.

"What do mean?"

"You should know by now, Sapling," he grinned, setting the carpet against the wall. "Mind getting me a hammer, a rag, and some soapy water?"

Brows furrowed, he went to grab the requested items. 'Keir' glared at the carpet, growling softly. "That's a bad joke, Sixer. Putting a mind-switching carpet in your room." He looked about, sighing. "You don't even have a proper bed in here. More like an office than a bedroom. So like you."

Dipper came back, items and Mabel in hand. She offered to help, saying she had brought extra cloths so she a Dipper could help. Keir declined, saying there were a few things he needed to go through. He looked at the desk pointedly, shooing the twins out.

"There are adventures to be had. Go find them. You only have the summer, you know," Keir advised, walking back into the room, but not shutting the door. He first grabbed the hammer, going to the window. Dipper and Mabel let him be.

He got the window sorted and the dust cleaned, storing papers away in the drawers for safe keeping. He would look through them all later. He magicked a bed into existence, feeling the twin far off already. He cleaned the cobwebs from the ceiling and the stain-glass window. He narrowed his eyes at the hole above the couch, simply making the planks grow to cover it.

By time he was done, it was rather late and the whole room smelled of flowers. Happy with himself, he made his way to the kitchen. It was empty, the twins still off somewhere and Stan in his chair with the T.V. on. He took a quick inventory, wincing when he realized there wasn't much.

With the promise to quickly come back, he ran to the store to grab a few things before arriving back at the Mystery Shack with the twins (who he met on his way back). They looked rather ruffled, as if they had just gotten out of a brawl. They -meaning Mabel- explained that they ran into gnomes at one point, who wanted to make her their queen or something. She animatedly told him the story, Keir nodding and putting in comments as she went, but his attention was on Dipper, who had his nose stuck into the third journal.

He pretended not to see him trying to gauge his reaction.

Once they got back to the house, the twins watched in awe as Keir worked around the kitchen with ease. The smell was heavenly and the taste even more so when they finally sat down to eat. Keir didn't eat much, they noticed, but he seemed happy with letting them get their seconds and their praise.

A simple mix of steamed vegetables, white rice, and steak cubes melted on their tongues, amusing Keir to no end with their blissed expressions. He was once again quizzed after dinner.

"How did you meet Gruncle Stan?" Dipper asked.

"Well," Keir started looking far away with a soft smile, "it was when he first opened the Shack, actually. I went on one of the tours and found it rather hilarious. The fact that people pay money to see it and somewhat enjoy it makes you Grunkle a genius." Stan puffed up a bit, pleased with the praise. "We simply talked and end up as friends. Honestly, I practically lived here before I moved back to Ireland."

"Why'd ya move back?" Mabel questioned, drinking her deadly mix of fruit juices and glitter. With a raised eyebrow, he answered.

"I was homesick. Ireland is such a pretty place. It has clean air and beautiful scenery. Nothing is better than home," he sighed longingly. "I came back because I missed the oddness of Gravity Falls. This place has an energy that you cant get anywhere else. I guess it just pulls you in."

Dipper nodded, knowingly. He could have swore he seen Keir's eyes spark.

"That's what your accent is," Dipper confirmed, nodding to himself. "Irish. Should have known, really."

"My accent?" Keir grinned, amused. "If you wanted to know, you could have asked. Really, no harm done."

After a few more questions, Dipper dragged the older man off, upstairs and into the attic room, Mabel happily following.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, getting a raised brow from the man. He took the book from him, opening it and looking over the contents. He knew it all by heart, every word written in such familiar loops.

"I was wondering where I had seen you before. You look older, but I know who you are."

A deep chuckle, smooth and deadly, rose from his chest, startling the two twins.

"You'll do just fine, Dipper Pines," he cooed, accent gone and his eyes bursting into gold. They grays in his hair vanished, leaving only strawberry blonde. He looked thirty years younger, standing up strait and easily reaching 5'11". "Just fine, indeed."

"Dipper?" Mabel questioned, eyeing the journal as it once again switched hands.

"What are you doing here? You wrote some of the journals, right? I have so many questions! Some of it makes no sense," Dipper ranted, pacing his floor. "Wait, does Gruncle Stan know about you?"

"He might. I'm not positive."

"So you really are Abez..." Dipper breathed. He watched the Demon King flinch, his eyes shining an icy blue.

"I am." He smiled at Mabel, watching as confusion flooded her thoughts. "Perhaps you should inform your sister in your findings." Dipper opened the journal and turned to the right page, handing it to his twin. She looked at the picture, then to the man, back to the picture.

"Oh. Well hi! I'm Mabel," she grinned, braces flashing.

"I am Abezthibou, but you may call me Abez," he reintroduced. "Demon King and Ruler of the Sins." Dipper narrowed his eyes. "Yes, Sapling?"

"You know who The Author is. Who? Where are they? You two seemed really close."

"Close, Sapling? What gave you that idea?"

Dipper motioned and Mabel gave the demon the book, who took it and looked it over. His own handwriting glared back, smooth letters in impressive cursive from years of practice.

At the bottom of the page, another familiar scrawl added his notes. They different ways his power manifested, the way he reacted to different chemicals and herbs.

It was the last paragraph that nearly had him tears. Personal quirks and odd habits were written. His taste in sweets and the cute nickname his human started calling him instead of the infuriatingly long name.

Dipper watched his eyes change colors, a soft blue shining through gold as the demon read the pages.

"We were close..." he began, hesitant. "Practically brothers. We had an odd relationship. He would ask for my help, but I couldn't always give it. I protected him, but never got him out of life and death situations. I can't tell you where he is, for I don't truly know. He will come back, though. I can feel it in my bones."

He gave Dipper the journal, the gray's returning to his head as if the journal was sucking out his youth as it left his hands.

"I trust you with this book, Mason Pines. You and your sister are something special. Keep Star close, yeah?" Abez smiled, tapping the bill of his hat. "I can't tell you much," he sighed, moving the the triangular window of the attic, "but Gravity Falls reveals itself to those worthy. Having the gnomes already greet you, your in for a wild summer. Have fun, and don't get yourselves killed."

With that, the almighty demon left, smirk on his face as he headed to his room. It had been thirty years, but he could still see Ford moving about the wooden floor and shuffling papers on the oak desk. Sighing in sadness, not yet tired, he went to see what Stan was up to.

Teleporting into the underground lab, eyes glowing a soft gold with the flicker of magic, he found Stan pouring over the first journal.

"Your nephew has the third," Abez informed, spooking the Pines. A smirk greeted the scowl he was given.

"I know."

"Your letting them keep it?"

"You let them keep it," Stan countered. "If anything, I'm surprised you didn't take it. He figured you out rather quickly."

"I wasn't trying. I could change my entire form if I wished and he wouldn't have known a thing. I was putting his observation to the test and he passed with flying colors."

"But he's a total whimp. His sister has more metal than he does." Stan flipped through the pages before stopping at the unfinished schematics of the large machine in front of them.

"He's a Pines," Abez reflected, "he is stronger than most. He just confronted the King of Demons without so much as a flinch. I'm proud of him."

"That's because Ford makes you out to be friendly," Stan grunted.

"Stealing things from your nephew? Stanley, theft is a sin," Abez chuckled, eyes glowing a little brighter in mischief.

"You would know all about that," Stan laughed, moving around Abez and leaving the demon to himself.

His smile faded, eyes glowing a purple, red and blue mixing.

He vanished, only to appear in front of the triangular gateway that stole his best friend from him.

Blue conquered red in his eyes, sadness bubbling in his chest. The ground rose to meet him as he sat, the rock morphing to turning into a plush throne as Abez took in old scents from the past. It was weak, with him being gone for so long, but he had spent so much time here, everything was saturated in the smell of chemicals and pine trees.

He smelled of the woods, clean air and oddness. So unique that he couldn't pin it. So achingly familiar and yet, not at all. He had spent so much time with the older Pines twin and yet...

He had let him disappear.

Anger bubbled again, directed at himself. He should have... but he couldn't. Red dimmed to a pink frustration as his own rules came to bite him.

'Without a deal, demons are not to interfere with the life or death of humans. In the odd chance that the demon has mated the human, this will be the exception.'

Demons were a proud race, much too proud to mate a human... It was a once-time thing. If your mate died, that was it. There was no second try. Abez still had his mark to give, many trying to vy for his hand. The only one he could even think as suitable was Lucifer, the Sin of Pride.

Eyes watering, Abez let himself relax and fall apart in his human's sanctuary that was his home since he had met the man. He sang into the empty room softly, his voice chasing the ghosts that haunted his past.

Do you remember

That day in October?

The leaves were falling

Just like me when it was over

One more day of sorrow

And I'll struggle to say sober

Hope to see you when I get older

I still remember the smell of your perfume

It hasn't left me since the day you made me blue

I think I saw you

but I know I'm not supposed to

I must be dreaming because I don't believe in ghosts...

Chuckling to himself, he wisped himself to his room, once owned by his little human, and grabbed a drawing pad out of the air.

There was no sleeping for him, fake or otherwise.

0oo00oo0

The smell of bacon woke the twins from slumber, Mabel quickly running downstairs as Dipper lagged behind.

Keir was in the kitchen again, fried eggs, pancakes, and bacon already on the table as he cooked the last of it. There was a newspaper waiting for their uncle at the head of the table, a cup of coffee accompanying it.

Keir turned to them, brown eyes lighting up. "Good morning, Sapling, Star. Breakfast is ready if you want it." His hair was free from its normal braid, still wearing the gray sweats and red shirt from yesterday.

Mabel energetically nodded, noticing that there was a blender with multiple colors in it on the counter. Curious, she took off the lid and dipped in a finger, licking it clean afterward.

Her brows furrowed before her eyes went wide.

"That's so good! What is that?" Mabel asked excitedly, watching the older man turn off the burners and grab a glass from the cupboards. He handed it to her and nodded, letting her pour herself a glass.

"It's blended fruits, a little bit of milk and sugar, blended with a bit of ice for some thickness. I don't believe humans are supposed to intake glitter, dear Mabel."

She pouted, but asked if her brother wanted some. Stan grumbled his way into his chair and narrowed his eyes at the cup of coffee on the table. He seemed to find it satisfactory, taking another gulp.

After breakfast, the Pines twins ran off, exploring the Mystery Shack to its fullest.

Chuckling, watching them run off, he turned to Stan. "Plans for today?" he inquired, pouring the last of the fruit smoothie into his cup.

"Making money," Stan grunted. Keir rolled his eyes, picking up the dishes to wash them. "Why are ya acting like a maid? Have one of the kids do it."

"Because I have nothing better to do. Let them have their childhood, Stan. Really, you should know the importance of that." Keir's eyes softened, smile accompanying it. "Anything you need me to do after I'm done picking up?"

"Nothing much, honestly. Unless you want to hang around and help out in the shop."

"I'll see if Wendy needs anything," he agreed easily. "Don't you have another employee running around somewhere?"

"Name's Soos. He's the handyman. You'll meet him sooner or latter."

Keir hummed, washing the last of the dishes before wiping off the stove. A quick glance at the table told him it was fine and he made his way to his room.

The shadows crawled up his frame, switching his clothes out for black slacks and a gray button up, crimson bowtie finishing his look. Dispute how much he hated shoes, he decided to don his feet with black boots.

He was brushing out his long hair when he heard someone scream. It was more startled than fearful, so Keir kept his pace casual as he checked out the noise.

It was Dipper, he realized, and it seemed they found a room full of wax figures. Keir peeked in, noticing a third in the room with the twins.

He was a rather large man, wearing a green shirt with a question mark in it. He had seen one of those in the shop. Kaki shorts and black sneakers accompanied it, topped with old, well worn brown hat.

"Is everything alright? I heard someone shout," Keir called into the room, watching the three whip around with no little amusement.

"Keir!" Dipper called. "Did you know this was here?"

"I did," he confirmed, stepping into the room to look around at wax a bit closer. "It's an old exhibit that was put to rest some time ago." He turned to the other man. "I don't believe we've met."

"Friends call me Soos," he introduced, holding out a hand. Keir took it as he relayed his name. "That's a nice accent there, dude. Where you from?"

"Ireland," he replied, turning his attention to the twins. "What were you all doing here, anyways?"

"Lookin' around," Mabel answered, grin on her face.

"I was going to ask a favor of you, Mabel, so I suppose it's good I found you. I was wondering if you could braid-"

"YES!" she squealed, pushing Keir out of the door and to his room.

Dipper only blinked at them, watching as Keir was wisked off.

"So, dude, who was that? I haven't ever seen him around," Soos asked. Dipper furrowed his brows, trying to remember the demon king's cover story.

"He just came back from going back to Ireland. Apparently, he's friends with Gruncle Stan," Dipper informed, leaving the room.

0oo00oo0

"You have so much hair!" Mabel awed, finishing her work. His long locks were once more tamed and braided, flowing over his shoulder so he could see.

It had been braided with beads that Mabel had insisted she use. They weren't sparkly and little animals, as he had thought when she first offered up the idea, but wooden ones that blended well with his hair. She had ranted on as she worked graying strands, saying that she thought they were pretty but didn't match her style, so she kept them knowing she might need them one day. They had been a gift, she explained, from her mother so she could try it. Mabel's nose had wrinkled, saying her hair was much too fluffy to try and fit it through those small beads.

He thanked her, watching her run off to join her brother and Soos in whatever adventure that had fallen into. The flicker of magic wasn't missed, and a grin split his face as he thought of what he was going to cook for lunch.

It was later in the day when there was a yell. Rolling his eyes, Kier ghosted through the house, abandoning the book he was reading. He blinked, several times, pinched himself, rubbed his eyes, and sit didn't understand what he was looking at.

Laying, on the floor, with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel standing over it with looks of pure sadness and heartbreak, was a wax figure... of Stan?

"Kier!" Mabel cried, her eyes misty. "Someone has murdered Wax Stan!" Kier blinked again as lightning struck and thunder boomed off in the distance.

"That is what all the yelling was about? Nearly gave this old man a heart attack! I'm sorry for your loss," Kier deadpanned.

"We have to find his murderer," lightning cracked again, "Kier! This is an injustice we cant allow!"

"Of course. I will help in any way I can, detective," Kier smirked, crossing his arms. Dipper narrowed his eyes.

"Where were you when this happened?" His twin gasped, frowning at her brothet for accusing their friend of such a thing.

"I don't have shoes with holes in them," Kier argued, showing bare feet, and had a rebuttal for when Dipper questioned how he knew that. "There is a print in the carpet. I just vacuumed, so the carpet should be clean of most prints."

Dipper, seemingly satisfied, nodded and apologized.

"No need. One must question all, for you never know if it is your closest friends who will stab you in the back. When on the hunt for honesty, trust no one." The youngest Pines flinched, but noticed the furrowing of Kier's brow. When questioned, he pointed to the floor by Stan's chair.

There was an axe.

"The murder weapon," Stan growled, lightning and thunder rumbling through the room. Dipper handled the axe, eyes going wide in realization.

"Manly Dan was at the meeting, so he has a motive and a background with the murder weapon! Come on, Mabel!"

The twins rushed out the house to hunt down Wendy's father. Kier chuckled, watching them go. He closed the front door that was left open in their rush and turned back to Stan.

He honestly looked horrified, which brought both worry and amusement to the King of Demons.

"Stanley?" He looked up from the decapitated Wax Stan on the floor. "Friend?" Red flashed, eyes becoming hard. "He is fine, Stanley. I can feel it in my stolen bones."

He only nodded, neither confirming or denying. He dragged the wax figure away, saying something about a funeral through faked sniffles. Rolling his eyes, Kier headed back to his book that he was enjoying. As he passed the room of wax figures from days of old, he paused.

"You all think you're cleaver. Hurt the children and I'll melt you into sentient candles."

He kept walking, continuing to his room. He closed the door, making sure that the twins knocked first should they look for him, before taking off his shirt, feet already bare to the wooden floors. He lifted the book from the couch just under the window where he had been soaking up the sun, and once again began to chuckle at the dramas of humanity.

0oo00oo0

Apparently, it had been the wax figure of Sherlock Holmes that had murdered Wax Stan, and he was melted along with the rest of his conspirators in a tussle with the twins.

Kier only chuckled as Mabel informed him as she took out the beads in his hair, leaving it loose for bed. He complained lightly, grumbling about having to remove the wax from both the roof and the wooden floors. Mabel had jokingly offered to help him make them into candles. She just blinked at him when he questioned how she knew that's what he was going to do.

After bidding her a goodnight and getting one in return, Kier watched her run upstairs to her and her twin's shared attic room. Sighing, he made his way out of his room, making for the lab. He felt pent up, unnatural in this skin he had to take.


	5. If Only

They looked up at him, eyes dead and narrowed. One, so much smaller than the other, had a hold on the other's wrist, tightening as he sensed danger. They're clothes were ragged and torn, covered in grim from too much time in the elements.

"What are your names, little ones?" the man asked, his suit pristine and his voice soothingly deep.

"Go away," the blue one spoke first, red eyes piercing.

"You're a fake, too," the green one finished, hooking their elbows instead of holding the blue one's wrist. As he shifted, his green eyes twinkled red, fractured like a gem.

"A fake, young one?"

He was surprised when that soft, round face the boy sported twisted.

"You'll only hurt us like they did," he spat.

"Because of what we can do," the older growled.

"There is nothing that would make me hate you. I can see it in your eyes. The heroes have failed you," the man guessed.

"And what makes you think you're any better?" the eldest snapped, an ired cat arching it's back. A hand went to the boy's throat, but the other pushed it away gently.

"Come," he said simply. "Come and I'll show you how useless these heroes are. How to use these gifts to better society. You may call me Sensei."

The boys, no older than four and seven, gave each other a knowing look that children should never posses.

"Alight," the green one complied.

"But at one wrong move," the other growled, catching a leaf floating by and letting the man watch as it crumbled into nothingness.

"You're well spoken for someone so young," Sensei complemented.

"I taught us," the green one puffed up, pride echoing in his tone. "No one else would."

"And that changes," the man promised, kneeling and patting thick, green curls, careful of the two sharp horns that rested there. "I'll be your teacher."

And so, the two boys, still suspicious of the man's help, followed him home. There was a mist man waiting when they arrived.

The green one's eyes sparked in curiosity, but he didn't wander from his brother in all but blood.

"Poison or teleportation, maybe?" he guessed, the mist man's lightning yellow eyes widening.

"A very good guess, little one," Sensei praised, watching the boy's eyes narrow, as if in question of the authenticity of his praise. "Teleportation."

"I am Kurogiri," the mist man introduced. "A pleasure."

The boys looked at each other, a bond as strong as lighting and just as quick passed between them and they seemed to come to a decision.

"I'm Izuku."

"I'm Tenko."

Sensei, who's eyes were gunmetal gray and older than time and who's smile was practiced but real, nodded to both of them.

"I'm happy you trust us with them," he hummed. "Kurogiri, if you could help clean them up? I'll go and get them something to wear."

"Something loose," Izuku called, eyes shifting between two colors like gems.

His brother hummed. That would be nice. Something comfortable against his stubbornly pale skin.

"I'll keep it in mind," Sensei chuckled, patting both their heads and heading back to the door.

"So, children," Kurogiri started once the door clicked, "bath time, then?"

"Please," they both pleaded, unhooking their arms so Izuku could capture Tenko's wrist.

"This way." He led them down into the backrooms, letting them look around as much as they could.

Izuku's eyes flicked around, but Tenko's were firmly on Kurogiri's back. His hypothesis was that Tenko was the one with the offensive quirk, making him the defender.

"Here we are," Kurogiri announced, opening the door to a rather large room. The tub could hold at least four people, the showerhead shiny above it. The sink was to the right a few feet away, toilet not far away. There were a few cabinets, a mirror over the sink.

"I'll show you how to work the spout and you should be set for anything else. Towels are in this cabinet," Kurogiri explained, tapping the cabinet closest to the bath. It made noise, and Izuku's eyes narrowed.

"You can solidify your body? Or is there a body under there?"

"Solidify," he answered promptly. "This is cold, this is hot. Press this in to make the shower come on. Which one of you want to go first?"

"We can't take one together?" Tenko asked, but it was Izuku who answered.

"People think that's weird," he explained. When Tenko shrugged, Izuku sighed. "If it makes you feel better, Ko, I will stay in here with you."

The boy nodded, making Izuku smile softly. He turned back to the adult in the room. "Thank you, Kurogiri. We've got it."

The mist man tilted his head before stepping out, letting the boys clean up. As he made his way to the bar, he thought about the two boys now in his care.

Sensei would undoubtedly make him raise them, as he was a busy man. He couldn't make himself dislike the idea. Izuku was smart, sharp. Tenko was a bit childish, but with Izuku's guidance, he was sure to be something great. He could see the potential his master saw in both boys, more so in the horned boy.

He wondered briefly what his Quirk was. It could be just his horns, but that didn't make any sense.

"You seem to be deep in thought, friend."

A shiver ran down his spine at his master's voice. The man's sharp features were no match for the intelligence in his steel eyes.

There was now two plastic bags sitting at one of the bar's tables. One clothes and the other some kind of take-out.

"You found them, didn't you?"

"Lost sheep, abandoned. For their Quirks, I would think."

"Izuku's is only horns from what I've seen. I doubt that would warrant abandonment."

"They may have believed he was possessed by demons. Humans are fickle and cruel, Kurogiri. Young Tenko can turn all he touches into ash."

Kurogiri paused, wiping another glass from behind the bar counter, before speaking. "That's why Izuku grabs him by the wrist and not his hand."

"Indeed. I feel something much more from Izuku. Something powerful. With that sharp intellect, he will make a good Queen."

"And Tenko?"

"I'll fashion him into a King. Just you wait."

"Why not Izuku?" Kurogiri asked, a fear settling in his belly. He didn't question this man often, but he seemed in a good mood.

"He is smart and strong, but he has been guilding Tenko from day one, pushing him. I seen it when they met. Did you know that Tenko has a tick of scratching his neck? Izuku simply pushed it gently away.

"They're bond is strong, and they'll help each other grow, but Izuku is more interested in building his brother up than himself. Why not use that?"

Kurogiri nodded, setting down his clean glass before stepping out from behind the bar to grab the bag of new clothes.

"Do you plan on letting me raise them?"

"I'll try my best to be around," Sensei promised, "but while I'm away, I trust no other to do so."

"Thank you, Sensei."

The man hummed, watching with a keen eye as Kurogiri took the clothes out of the bag and took off the tags, separating them into two piles before looking at Sensei for confirmation. He received it and made his way to the bathroom.

Izuku was sitting on the floor, a small smile on his face as he talked to Tenko.

"-one time that we were taken into a church and my Quirk activated? They threw a Bible at me, Tenko. A Bible."

"I remember," Tenko giggled.

Izuku looked back at Kurogiri, face now blank but his voice still cheery.

"Didn't they throw a cross at you?"

"Yep.Then we sold it so we could buy a slushie."

As he spoke, Kurogiri placed a set of clothes near the shower and the other on the other end and pointed at the pile before pointing at Izuku, who nodded and watched the man leave.

"Who was that?"

"Kurogiri. He had our new clothes."

0oo00oo0

After both boys had showered and eaten, they hung around the bar, bored.

Izuku was watching Kurogiri in fascination, simply eyeing him. Tenko was swinging his legs back and forth, sipping some orange juice.

Izuku's head snapped up, cocking to the side.

"Izu?"

His brother shushed him before a low growl left his throat.

Kurogiri blinked at the practiced way Tenko bore his throat to the other boy. Izuku scraped his sharp teeth against his skin, just enough to draw blood to lap up before he bolted out the door with a bang.

The computer screen lit up with the image of Sensei, his long, black hair pulled back into his usual low ponytail but his suit jacket and tie missing.

"What happened?"

"I'm uncertain. I'll find out."

Tenko followed Kurogiri toward the source of the growling, surprised at the scene before him.

There was a man laying on the ground, lifeblood spilling from the stump of his neck. He had no visible quirk, but it didn't matter now. There was a blood splatter on the wall as if someone flung the blood off a blade to clean it.

Izuku was completely different.

Black, short-furred wings had three small talons at the crook, sprouting from the boy's back. The horns in his hair grew to curl like a rams, a second set sprouting from his forehead, barely and inch long. His eyes were closed as he purred, mouth nowhere to be seen on his smooth face. A tail and his wings were curled around a small body.

The boy in his grip looked shocked and was shivering in fright. A shock of purple hair seemed to defy gravity, black eyes resting on the decapitated body. His clothes were too big on him and looked worn, but otherwise taken care of. He was pale, the dark bags under his eyes all the more visible.

Izuku's eyes snapped open, irises so pale you almost couldn't make them out against his sclera. A deep rumble left Izuku's chest when he spotted them, making Kurogiri's bones rattle with something like fear.

Fear of a four year old boy.

"It's okay, Izu," Tenko cooed, coming closer. "We won't hurt him. What's your name, purple?"

"S-Shinso," he squeaked, sucking in air and shakily releasing it before continuing. "Shinso Hitoshi."

A purr echoed in the ally as Izuku nuzzled him under his chin, making the boy squeak again.

"What happened?" Kurogiri asked, keeping away from the protective demon.

The boy didn't answer, only widening his eyes and shaking uncontrollably. Izuku growled again in warning.

"You're scaring him," Tenko warned. "You don't have to answer. We'll try and get Izu to calm down first. Tell him you're okay. He like pets."

Hitoshi blinked before nodding. He shifted, raising an arm to pet the boy shielding him. He ran his fingers through green curls, getting a coo from Izuku as his eyes fluttered shut.

Hitoshi's breath hitched when the skin were Izuku's mouth should be crumbled away, revealing sharp fangs. He didn't move as the other boy nipped at his neck softly, careful of his sharp teeth.

"It's okay," Tenko told him, gaining the boy's gaze. "He is just nipping you. It's him showing affection. You're okay."

Hitoshi continued to pet the boy, watching in fascination as the wings withered into dust and his horns shrunk back into his head. The tail slinked back into his spine, disappearing. His skin healed until it left plump, petal pink lips in its place, a healthy tan from all his time outside.

He was still purring, if not as loudly. His eyes fluttered open, his green eyes breaking like a kaleidoscope into red.

"Hito," he cooed, nuzzling the boy again. His voice was raspy, husky in a way a four-year-old's should never be. "Don't worry. I won't let them bother you ever again. You can be with us! We would never bully you for your Quirk."

"What's your Quirk?" Tenko asked, tilting his head.

He seemed hesitant to answer, but spoke up softly. "I can control people who answer me."

Izuku's purr started up again, his chest puffing in something like pride. "A perfect Quirk! They are so mean, Hito! You're perfect."

"Who are all of you?" Hitoshi asked, fear sparking again.

"We're villains!" Izuku chuckled happily, making both Hitoshi and Kurogiri start. Izuku turned to him, unamused. "Did you think we were stupid, Mr. Kurogiri?"

Hitoshi pulled away, backing up a bit, and Izuku let him.

"I don't wanna be a villain. I want to be a hero! To prove them all wrong! Like Eraserhead!"

"But Hito," Izuku called softly, not reaching for him but standing up in his spot, "those heroes are not real. They're fakes. You want to be a part of that?"

Kurogiri watched on in fascination.

"What do you mean 'fake'?" Hitoshi whispered, scared.

"They only help for fame. For money and power. They don't care about people like you, me, and Tenko. You have lines on your face. They muzzled you."

Hitoshi flinched back, eyes watering but not falling.

"You want to be like them?" Izuku asked softly. He spread his arms out, inviting him in. "It wasn't heroes that saved you, Hitoshi. It was us."

Hitoshi hiccuped, tears spilling. He walked forward into the other boy's arms, letting him wrap him in security.

"Come on, Hito. Let's get you something to eat. You're too thin," Izuku hummed, leading him by his hand and grabbing Tenko's wrist.

"I'm Tenko and your boyfriend is Izuku," the blue-haired boy chuckled.

Hitoshi sputtered, but Kurogiri swore he saw Izuku's grin widen in satisfaction.

0oo00oo0

"What do you think, Kurogiri?" Sensei asked, the video of the incident playing again as the man studied it. It was long past the children's bedtime, so Kurogiri was alone in his master's chambers.

The camera had caught everything and Sensei stole the video, deleting the footage before others could see.

"He is manipulative and vicious," Kurogiri answered quietly, watching the small boy rip the man's head clean off, letting roll off deeper into the ally.

"I think it was more his Quirk that targeted young Shinso," Sensei hypothesized. "I think we found another weak point in his hidden beast."

"I believe he would turn on us in a second if we hurt either of them. Even by accident."

"Yes, he would," Sensei agreed, turning to look at his friend. "And that is why I picked Tenko. Izuku is a wildcard, but even the Queen follows the King's orders."

0oo00oo0

"So, Hito," Izuku grinned, drowning in the button-up shirt he had to borrow from Kurogiri. His wings shredded the other one. "What's it like to be brainwashed?"

"Wouldn't know," Hitoshi answer shyly. "I can't do it to myself."

"Do it to me!"

"What?"

"Do-"

Hitoshi panicked as Izuku's eyes unfocused, expression blank. What made him panic more was the odd feeling that came with it.

The tether wrapped around Izuku's mind seemed to have something wrapped around it, vibrating the connection. Like a cat was curled on it and was purring.

Or a demon.

Hitoshi poked Izuku's shoulder to snap him out of it. Instead of the fury was expecting, all he got were starry eyes.

"That's so cool! I could think and stuff but couldn't move my body! It was all fuzzy and stuff!" the boy exclaimed, a lovestruck expression falling on his face. "Marry me, Hito."

Hitoshi's face went cherry red, sputtering and choking on air. Izuku only sighed, dopy smile on his face.

"Ew," Tenko deadpanned from his place on a stool, orange juice glass held without his pinky.

"Ew, indeed," Kurogiri chuckled. "Izuku, stop teasing Shinso."

"Who said I was just teasing?" Izuku scowled. He turned back to Hitoshi, who was still trying to catch his breath. "Please?"

"We're too little!" Hitoshi sputtered out. "We're four!"

"Then we'll be engaged for as long as it takes!" Izuku exclaimed, nodding with himself.

"You two are disgusting," Tenko stated, sounding pained. Izuku stuck out his tongue, pulling Hitoshi to him.

"No he isn't! Look how cute he is!" Izuku argued. Tenko made something like a gaging noise.

"Sensei noticed you were bored yesterday," Kurogiri spoke up. "Have any of you played Uno?"

They all shook their heads as they eyed the new box of cards. They listened carefully to his explanation before starting a game between the three of them.

This went on for hours, Kurogiri mentioning a few other ways to play the game like Doubles and Stacks. Izuku was well versed in the game, planning his cards around the other two like he was stalking prey. He did let the other boys win, of course, drawing cards when he could have ended them.

At one point, playing a game of Doubles, Izuku looked at Tenko apologetically. Tenko's eyes narrowed in suspicion before widening.

"No, Izu-"

"I'm sorry."

"We're brothers!"

"Sorry."

"Mercy!"

Izuku played a double draw four, watching Tenko gurgle a dying sound of betrayal, Hitoshi looking in sympathy before his eyes lit up.

"I'll avenge you!" he declared, laying down two draw twos, but Izuku only gave him another look before laying two more down, emptying his hand.

"That makes sixteen, big brother."

Tenko didn't move from his spot on the floor.

"I fucking hate this game. I hate you, Izu."

"Language," Kurogiri scolded.

Izuku shrugged, pained expression ruined by the sadistic smile he was fighting down.

"Sorry?"

"No you're fucking not."

Kurogiri sighed.

"Uno ruins friendships," Hitoshi said sagely.

"And Monopoly ruins families," Kurogiri agreed.

"Monopoly?" Izuku perked up.

"No," they all said at once, making Izuku cackle.

"You're just scared," he goaded. Instead of arguing, the two boys only nodded in agreement.

Izuku only blinked at them before his eyes watered in crocodile tears. "Traitors."

"Wise men," Hitoshi corrected. Tenko snorted in agreement. Izuku went silent for a moment, small smile on his face as he thought of their future.

"One day," Izuku hummed, eyes far away and filled with a passion and hatred that the other two boys had never seen, "we'll help people. People like us. What we're doing is going to cause huge waves, one day." He looked to the eldest of the three of them, eyes sparking. "Are you ready to lead us to that, Tenko?"

"Wouldn't you be a better leader, Izuku?" Tenko shot back.

"No. I'm a strategist, not a leader. Let people fear me and what I am." His eyes paled and his fangs glinted in the bar's light. "Who's scarier? The demon? Or the one that has tamed it?"

0oo00oo0

Izuku, now seven, looked at Hitoshi, green eyes paling and hands sharpening into claws, black scales covering them in an impenetrable armor. He was so happy he had been wise enough to take off his shirt in his room as his wings burst from his back. As his demonic form took over him, the instinct to wrap Hitoshi up and never let him escape overcame him. He beat it back, focusing his sharp mind on all the holes in Hitoshi's stance.

"Your leaning back," his voice purred, the rumble he had in this form making the boy shiver. "Do not be afraid of the fight, Hito."

"I'm not," Hitoshi denied, fixing his posture.

"You are always afraid," Izuku sighed, eyes lidded in understanding. "When you fight," Izuku began, circling the boy on all fours, wings tucked in close to his body and tail swaying lazily, "you must not let fear rule you. You are scared to get hit. You are afraid we will get killed because you wont make it in time." Hitoshi flinched. "If someone throws a punch, don't get hit. If we're in trouble, save us. Don't get caught. That is how it is." His pale eyes softened, Hitoshi only able to tell from their long time together. "Believe in yourself, Hitoshi. You are strong. You tamed a beast like me, after all."

Hitoshi sent him a wobbly smile, eyes hardening in determination. Izuku's excited howl echoed through their arena, charging at Hitoshi, who dodged him like he was raging bull. Izuku's tail caught his ankle, tripping him.

Izuku backed off, letting him get up with a huff. Hitoshi took his stance once more, eyes narrowed in concentration. Izuku cooed at him in praise, coming at him much slower so Hitoshi could react. He swiped, watching Hitoshi sink to the ground to land a hit to his gut. He stumbled back a bit, and while it didn't hurt, his balance suffered. Hitoshi swiped at his legs, but Izuku jumped over the attempt, flapping his wings once to jump back.

Hitsohi hissed in annoyance, waiting for Izuku to come his way again, tense. Lean muscle wasn't as effective in this kind of brawl, and while Izuku was literally a noodle in both forms, he packed a nasty punch. In this form, lifting cars was like benching a feather.

Izuku's head tilted, body loosing out of his ready stance. He trotted up to Hitoshi, who ran a hand through his green curls.

"What do you hear?"

"Footsteps," he responded, stare on the door leading to the underground arena of sand. "Sensei is here. Should we go see him or continue sparring?"

"It's lunch time anyways," Hitoshi whined, getting a deep and husky chuckled from his partner.

"Is my mate tired?"

"No," Hitoshi denied quickly, red invading his cheeks. Izuku had taken to calling him that, especially when his Quirk was active. Izuku only chuckled, crouching lower to let Hitoshi climb on his back. Once his thighs gripped his ribs and his hands where on his shoulders, Izuku moved to stand slowly, as to not buck his rider, before making his way to the opening of the training ring.

They made their way to the empty bar, finding Tenko, now nine with his birthday coming up quickly, fiddling with another hand he had added to his collection. Hitoshi wrinkled his nose, bit Izuku only huffed.

"I don't see the appeal, big brother."

"You wouldn't understand," Tenko sighed, nose wrinkling as well. Thin lips, chapped in another life, were pressed into a line. "Do you know who this is?"

Izuku looked between his brother and the hand, letting HItoshi down to crawl closer. He sniffed it, brows visibly knitting despite the lack of hair. He sniffed the hand again before balancing himself on the end of Tenko's bench and nuzzling his brother's neck. His eyes widened.

"Your father."

"Ding."

Hitoshi thought he was going to be sick.

"Why?" Izuku breathed, voiced hushed as if afraid of the answer.

"It's all that's left of them," Tenko responded in an equally quiet voice. "It's all I have."

"Oh, Tenko," Izuku cooed, snuggling into Tenko's neck. "You have us, brother. We'll always be here."

"What happened to them?" Hitoshi asked, joining the two.

"I dusted them," Tenko answered. "My Quirk turned my father to dust. My mother, so sweet and nice and gentle, beat me before throwing me out of the house at age Five. A year later, I met Izuku, who was only three then. He didn't understand then, but he had been abandoned like I had," he turned to Izuku, red eyes soft, "so I took him in and we ran around for about a year before Sensei found us."

"Did we ever tell you about that time in the church?" At Hitoshi's denial, the two brothers went into tales of their shenanigans. Hitoshi listened raptly, snickering and asking questions as they went. Izuku switched to his more human form, grin splitting his face as he doodled in his sketchbook he had gotten from Sensei.

Before long, Kurogiri arrived with sandwiches, replying to their thank you's. Izuku narrowed his eyes at his plate before turning to Kurogiri.

"Hey, Kuro?" Kurogiri turned to look over his shoulder as he made his was behind the bar counter.

"Yes, Izuku?"

"What did Sensei need?"

Kurogiri continued to clean the glass he had put down, electric eyes narrowing in thought. "He wished to speak to you about Tenko."

"What about me?" said boy asked, leaning to peer around Izuku's body.

"Your name means something very important," Kurogiri explained, "so Sensei thought it wise to make another name. Same for you two, as well."

"Like our stage names," Izuku agreed, looking up from his sketchbook. "I want to be called Sutāresu. {Sa-rey-sue... or something close}"

"Starless?" Hitoshi translated. "That sounds so cool."

"What about you, Toshi?" Tenko asked, biting into his sandwich. No mustard and pickle slices.

"I was thinking something like Puppeteer, but hearing Zu's makes it seem lame. That and I think it would be cool if we all matched."

"Why not something related to the stage? Something flashy?" Izuku suggested. "Danchō means ring master."

"But it doesn't fit," Hitoshi whined, picking up his glass of milk.

"Hoshizora," Izuku offered. "Starlit night."

"I like," Hitoshi approved. They turned to Tenko, who seemed deep in thought.

"Tomura. Shigaraki Tomura."

"Why that?" Izuku quizzed.

"Sensei said that my name was special, right? Someone must know it. I need to change it. So from now on, I want you to call me that, okay?" Tenko asked, eager to please the man who took them in.

"Okay, Tomu," Izuku smiled gently, taking another bite of his lunch. A mostly-meat sandwich with a little bit of brown, spicy mustard.

"That doesn't leave me a nickname," Hitoshi wined, referencing their whole 'Hey, that's my nickname for him!' episode.

"Use his last name."

"Rude. That's cool with us, Mura."

"Oh? Thought you couldn't."

"Shut up, Zu."

0oo00oo0

Kurogiri's phone rang, and before even picking it up to answer, there was a portal in the middle of the bar. Izuku looked over, pale eyes narrowed a back arched like an ired cat. Tomura ran a gloved hand through the nine-year-old's hair, trying to sooth him. He had been anxious for a while, keeping his Quirk, which they had dubbed {Possession}, active.

Instead of the man that had saved them walking through the portal with all his charm and harsh presence, a mutilated body fell. If not for Izuku's quick thinking, he would have hit the floor.

"Master!" Kurogiri cried, but stopped at Izuku's annoyed growl.

"Get me someone. I don't care who. I can save him!" Kurogiri didn't argue, opening another portal to let a man stumble through, looking around blankly. Izuku pounced on him, sinking fangs into his throat and pulling with his core.

The other three males in the bar watched in horrid fascination as the man began to wither and mummify. After nothing but skin and bone was left, Izuku rushed to Sensei's side. He bit in between neck and shoulder, gently and carefully. His wings fluttered, his whole body tense. They watched as slowly, Sensei's face restored itself, his long, black hair returning and gunmetal eyes remaining closed.

"Is he okay?" Hitoshi asked, eyes drifting between the demon and the man. "He's going to make it, right, Zu?"

Izuku loosed his jaw, sliding his teeth from the man's flesh. He looked at Hitoshi, eyes lidded in exhaustion.

"He'll be fine. He's only unconscience."

The bar let out a breath of relief, Kurogiri moving to pick up Sensei. Izuku, Hitoshi, and Tomura watched him get carried away, something heavy in their guts.

What had happened to Sensei that a man that strong could come home in pieces?

0oo00oo0

The two pre-teens narrowed their eyes at the merchandise in the window, clearly deep in thought.

"Yes or no?"

"He doesn't have one, does he?"

"No, but he was talking about that one game he wanted. If we get this, we cant get him the game. But if we get the game, we might have enough to get him some of that weird candy he likes."

One of the boys gagged, the other nodding in agreement.

"I think we should get the game. If we by the console without games, that's kind of stupid."

"You're right."

And so, the two pre-teens, one purple and one green, made their way inside to locate the game their brother wanted so badly.

-0-

The next day, Tomura yawned, sitting up in bed after a few minutes of staring at the ceiling. He picked up his smartphone (a gift to all the boys after Sensei made a full recovery from that battle with All Might four years ago,) and checked the time. It was well past time for Kurogiri to wake him up. Blinking, he stretched till he heard a satisfying pop and headed downstairs.

Kurogiri wasn't behind the bar and his brothers were nowhere to be seen.

Strange.

The absence of his youngers made his hands twitch, his neck itching something fierce. He fought it, though. For Izuku.

"Izu? Toshi?" he called and the thumps of feet lightened his heart. The two boys skidded out from the 'Staff Only' door, bright smiles lighting the room.

"Tomu!"

"Mura!"

"Sup you two? What where you doing back there?" Tomura asked, brow arching.

The two teens gave each other a look, mischief sparking in their eyes.

"This way!" they both giggled, pulling him by his partially gloved hands. He let them lead him, indulging the younger boys.

He was lead to one of the doors that opened to their training room, the one they used for quirkiness combat. As they opened the door, Tomura blinked.

All the equipment had been pushed to the side, chairs and tables arranged in the middle with white cloth and food lining the tables. He noticed it was a lot of his favorites.

There was a small pile of presents sitting on a round table, Kurogiri standing beside them like a loyal guardsmen. Sensei sat in a plush chair, hid long, straight, black hair was pulled into a ponytail at his neck and gunmetal eyes were lit with something like affection. His sharp features were softened by his smile.

"What..." Tomura gasped, looking at everything.

"It's not every day a young man turns sweet sixteen. Happy birthday, Tomura," Sensei greeted.

"Happy birthday!" the teen boys cheered, running over to the table with food that was no doubt all prepared by Izuku and Kurogiri.

Tomura and Hitoshi weren't allowed in the kitchen after the, uh... incident.

Tomura gathered a plate for himself, containing more sweets than food, before joining his family at the table.

"Wait and see what we got you, big brother!" Izuku chirped, smile wide and mischievous glimmer ever present.

"Me and Zuku thought real hard on what to get you," Hitoshi chimed in, stuffing some rice in his mouth.

"I'm sure I'll love it," Tomura agreed, eating another bite of cake. It was butterscotch, his one of his favorite flavors.

"Oh!" Izuku exclaimed, bouncing in his chair. "Before we finish dinner!" He raced off to the girt table, picking up one near the edge. It was small and crinkled as Izuku's fingers shifted over it.

He handed the shiny blue present (with a green and purple bow. Gosh, what was he going to do with them) and stared at him expectantly.

He carefully tore the shiny paper, revealing a package of black liquorice.

"Thanks you two," Tomura hummed, opening the package and popping one of the twisted candy strips into his mouth, most of it just hanging out of his mouth.

Both boys wrinkled their noses playfully, pointing at him with an exaggerated 'Ewwwww!' They laughed, even Sensei and Kurogiri chuckling along.

After everyone was done eating, the two youngest let out of hearty cry of 'Presents!' The adults and older teen watched in amusement as they picked out a present each for him to open.

The first was a present from Sensei. A new pair of black half-gloves to replace his fraying ones. They fabric was soft and it was well made. He swapped gloves, opening and closing his fist to try them. He nodded in satisfaction and thanked Sensei.

The second was from Kurogiri. There was more lotion and skin care products ("You had said you were running out.") and glass that was crystalized to look like it was falling apart. He thanked him, being careful with the glass.

The boys were next, grinning like fools. They handed him a wrapped box and was told not to shake it rather sternly by Izuku. Curious, he ripped the paper and opened the box.

Inside were about two games to the hand-held game system and one was a disk. The two smaller ones were adventure games and disk was the one game he had asked for.

"You guys got me Dragon Age?" he asked, breathless.

They nodded. "We only had money for that one, but the guy said it was on sale so we had money to buy the other two. Buy one get one free and stuff," Hitoshi explained.

"I love it," Tomura breathed, putting the box on the table and opening his arms. The two boys crashed into him, a pile of giggling limbs.

"There's one more thing," Sensei cut in, a soft smile curling on his lips. He nodded to Kurogiri, who opened a portal right above Tomura's lap.

A small, short-haired kitten landed there, meowing in protest at being manhandled. It was a smoky gray, darker gray streaks running through its fur. His eyes crystal blue, and he doubted they'd dull as they aged.

"He's about seven weeks old," Sensei informed. "What will you name him?"

Izuku and Hitoshi glared at him, promising death if he picked something stupid. He thought about it for a moment before nodding to himself.

"Ash."

"Simple and efficient," Izuku agreed, making Tomura sigh in relief.

Hitoshi snorted. "Like your Quirk. Har har."

"Shush," Izuku hushed playfully. "At least it wasn't named after a game character."

"You're right."

"I'm right here," Tomura whined, letting the kitten climb up his arm to his shoulders.

"Are they wrong, young master?" Kurogiri chuckled.

A defeated whine passed Tomura's lips, making his small family laugh at him.

0oo00oo0

Izuku wrinkled his nose.

"Do it, do it, do it!"

He took the shot of bronze liquid and nearly puked it back up.

"YEAH. HOW'S IT FEEL?" Hitoshi shouted, smug grin on his face.

"That's so nasty," Izuku groaned, head laying on the cool bar. He looked like he was in pain.

"Well," Kurogiri chuckled, "at least it's good for you. Just a shot like that can clean out your whole system."

"Are you telling me Apple cider vinegar is good for you?" Izuku sputtered. "People drink it for they're health? I almost died."

Hitoshi stopped cackling long enough to answer before sputtering into laughter again. "That's why you don't lose bets with me."

"Any more than that would be bad to drink straight," Kurogiri warned. "I like putting it in herbal teas."

"Really? Can I try?" Izuku asked, eager. "It was just strong. Can I try it in tea?"

"Ew," Hitoshi deadpanned, finally over his laughing fit. "Hey, 'Giri? When will we be able to go out?"

Kurogiri thought this question over.

"I'm unsure. That would be a question for Sensei."

"You called?"

The man himself -that's not creepy- appeared on his screen, dressed in his suit.

"We were wondering, Sensei," Hitoshi started.

"When will we make our debut?" Izuku finished. "I think it wise to gain a name for ourselves before 'joining the League'. It'll give the League more rep for sure."

Sensei seemed to think this over, but both the boys knew it was an act. He already had a plan.

"Why not start now? I'll leave the plans up to you."

The boys grinned.

"Good luck. Make me proud."

0oo00oo0

Two teens walk into a drug ring.

"Ya buyin'?" an older man asked, a few teeth missing and the rest yellowed.

A wicked grin spread over the teen's face, his companion huffing in agreement. The demon sat on its haunches, purring a gloved hand ran through thick curls that were pulled back into a tail at his neck.

"Perhaps," the smooth voice of the teen echoed. "But perhaps I'm here for something else." Sharp, black eyes scanned the large warehouse from behind his white opera mask that covered the right side of his face. Men and women around them started to tense, readying for a brawl.

The demon's mouth cracked open to reveal sharp fangs, a low growl cut off with the rough tug to his hair.

"Now, now, Sutāresu. We want to be nice," the purple-haired teen chuckled from behind his white glove. His violet button up was loose around his neck and tucked into his slacks, a white tie swaying from his collar. Heavy boots made no sound when he moved. He was like a ghost. He was rather tall for how young he looked, despite the heavy eye-bags viable under his left eye.

His companion had a black, leather dog collar around his neck, two links of chain hanging down as if it had snapped it from his post. A loincloth hung from its thin hips, though there was nothing to cover in this form. Deep violet edges encased the golden kanji for 'starless', apparently the beast's name.

"I have a proposition, gentlemen, ladies," the teen spoke again. "Join me in a greater cause, and I'll leave your little ring alone."

"If we say no?" a woman snarked, flinching when Sutāresu moved in a tight circle around its master to growl at her.

"I don't know. Don't you think Sutāresu looks a little hungry? I didn't feed him before we came. We were in such a rush," he grinned, shifting the long, black coat on his shoulders.

"Is that a threat, brat?" another thug growled, only to be met with one of Sutāresu's.

"A promise," he said darkly. "My name is Hoshizora and I would greatly appreciate some more helping hands. Any of you interested?"

"What do we get out of it?" a woman questioned, voice light and airy.

"Protection," he looked around, "a better place to stay, and some more allies." His small smile turning into a lazy smirk. "A little cash thrown in for a job well done."

"Aren't you a little young?"

A gloved hand splayed over his chest in exaggerated offense.

"Young?" Hoshizora looked toward his pet demon, who nudged his leg gently with his shoulder. The demon on all fours was as tall as his hip, and standing he had to be at least six foot. "Taming a demon young. I'll take it as a complement."

Said demon huffed then snapped at someone who had come too close for his liking.

Hoshizora chuckled. "He bites." A chain of iron hooked to the two links of Sutāresu's collar, and with a soft tug, the demon sat at his feet.

Hoshizora chuckled, glancing around him.

"So? What'll it be?"

0oo00oo0

Aizawa Shouta was a sleepless, irritated mess. He rubbed his temples to try and cut off the oncoming headache, black eyes squeezing shut.

"They started a damn mafia."

His husband chocked on the coffee he was sipping, green eyes popping open.

"The Starlight Twins?"

He only got a groan in response. Yamada Hizashi sighed. "How old are they again?"

"Sixteen-ish." Shouta signed. "I wonder what happened to them. We don't even know if the other one has any human left."

"Sutāresu? I think so. I've only met them once, but he cares a little too much about Hoshizora for him not to." Shouta grunted.

"Transformation or mutation?"

"Jury is still out on that one. If I had to guess at motive, though..."

"Quirk discrimination," Shouta agreed, rubbing his face and running a pale hand through his long, black hair. "I've been under Hoshizora's once. It was weird. He called it {Commandment}."

His husband hummed, throwing long, blond strands behind his shoulder and taking a sip of coffee.

"I just hope we can help them."

0oo00oo0

"How does the Quirk feel?"

"Really good," Hitoshi confirmed, taking off his mask and collapsing into a booth with a pleased nod. "It bended really well."

"{Collar and Command} seemed like a good fit for you. I'm happy there's no problems."

A low purr echoed in Izuku's throat. He looked up at Hitoshi from where he was laying by Hitoshi's feet.

"A stellar performance. We've definitely made a name for ourselves."

"He's right," Sensei agreed, fiddling with what sounded like papers off screen. "The Starlight Twins. Has a nice ring."

"It does," Kurogiri agreed.

"I've noticed, Izuku," Sensei spoke up once more, coming into frame, "you've spent a lot of time in that form."

"It's comfy," Izuku explained. "Doesn't feel like I'm in a skintight costume."

"I can make it permanent."

Izuku seemed to ponder it for a moment, before shaking his head.

"While I like this form, Sensei, my human one allows me freedom."

"I understand," Sensei nodded, seemingly pleased with his choice. Hitoshi smiled softly at his partner, running a hand through his curly locks.

"You know, Izuku, you're hair has gotten really long," Hitoshi pointed out, smirk replacing his smile. "I think you'd look good with an undercut."

Kurogiri hummed. "That he would, now that he's lost most of his baby fat."

He was right. His jawline was sharp but his cheeks were full, cheekbones high.

"Do you think piercings would stay in my demon form?" Izuku half-joked. "Maybe on my lip and ear? I like hoops."

"I think one in the middle for your lip. Just a ball or something," Hitoshi offered up.

"What?" Tomura asked, joining them.

"You'd have to be careful with them," Sensei warned. "Piercings are very identifiable."

"Oh," Tomura stated smartly. "Toshi would look good with a nose ring. Like a bull one?"

Hitoshi rolled the idea around, nodding.

"Hot as hell."

"That better have been intended."

"Always."

Tomura gagged.

"You're eighteen, man up."

"Says fucking you."

"That's my job."

Everyone just stared at the preening Izuku.

"T.M.I. What the fuck?" Tomura asked, a little dazed.

Izuku only shrugged.

0oo00oo0

Soon, the eighth of of July came around. The eighth was smack dab ("Izuku, no." "The meme won't die.") in the middle of their birthdays. They agreed to just use that date for them both.

"Are you sure?" Kurogiri asked again, holding the piecing gun up for them to see, giving them an out.

"Yep," Hitoshi answered lazily, Izuku nodding beside him.

After a few yelps and flinches, Izuku had a gold hoop through his right ear, a silver ball in the middle of his lower lip and another one through his tongue.

Hitoshi had a steel horseshoe with metal balls at the ends through his nose, and a small steel bar in his right eyebrow to hide behind his mask.

Izuku's was already healed an hour later, much to Hitoshi's annoyance.

Ash rubbed against his stomach from his place on Hitoshi's lap to comfort him, which Izuku found amusing.

Izuku was gifted new headphones, a sketchpad (his was full), and two small, wooden hand mannequins.

Hitoshi also got a pair of headphones (this one with small cat ears), a set of rings, and a necklace with the Wiccan Trinity charm.

Izuku handed him another him another jewelry box, this one containing a silver pocket watch. The front had 'Forever Mine' carved into the front, and once clicked open, Hitoshi's breath hitched.

It was a taken down the bar counter. Tomura had his chin on the bar counter, perched on a stool and facing forward. Sensei was smiling softly with a glass of scotch in his hand, iced. Izuku was behind the bar, frozen mid-refilling Sensei's drink. Kurogiri was beside him, cleaning another glass. From the angle, Izuku and Tomura were in front, the older men behind them. Glass sheltered the picture, sealing it in. Gray was swirled into the glass, making a frame.

The other face was of course the clock, but a comedy and tragedy masks were behind the hands, a ribbon flowing between the with his stage name written in lilac on the flat of it.

"Happy birthday, mate," Izuku cooed, thumbs hanging from the belt loops of the other's jeans and nose nuzzling Hitoshi's jaw.

"It's beautiful," Hitoshi awed. "Baby, it's gorgeous."

"Was that a yes?" Izuku asked, eyes bright.

"Yes. Oh, my god."

Izuku purred happily, nuzzling his official (cuz they always sort-of kind-of were) boyfriend again.

A gag broke the peace, gaining laughter as Tomura mimed puking.

"I'm happy for you," Sensei smiled, pride bubbling in his chest.

"Thanks, Pops," Izuku teased.

"It's official. He's Dad for One."

Sensei choked. "What?"

"You're Dad now," Tomura snickered.

"And Mamagiri," Hitoshi added, grinning evilly as the mist man froze.

The teens cackled at their parental figures. Kurogiri finally sputtered to life, mist turning a beautiful shad of magenta in his galaxy of black, purple, and deep blues.

Even All for One joined in the laughter.

-0-

"You know," Izuku purred in their shared room that night, "I finally get you all to myself." He stretched, abs in full view, muscles flexing.

"Oh?" Hitoshi asked, eyebrow arching. He crossed his arms over his torso to pull his shirt up with his arms, exposing a muscled back. Hitoshi leaned back when toned, tanned skin circled his waist and cool breath brushed his neck.

"My mate. All mine," Izuku purred, nipping the taller's neck. Izuku would be taller than him one day, they both knew it. He'd shoot up that inch he was missing and then some.

"Bold of you to assume you weren't already mine," Hitoshi smirked, a lazy thing as he turned to face his lover.

The black collar he always wore was hooked a chain quickly, Izuku's brain rewiring itself to make Hitoshi his god, his everything.

A rumble left Izuku's chest, eyes paling but not transforming. Black scales wrapped around his throat, but left the middle open.

"My beautiful baby," Hitoshi cooed, petting the other teen. He dragged him to the bed by his new leash and made him kneel at his feet. "You're so precious, thinking that you're on top."

The silky smooth voice of his demonic side purred from Izuku's throat. "I'm so fucking you. Damn you're hot."

Hitoshi only chuckled, a dark, promise-filled sound that gave Izuku chills. He nuzzled Hitoshi's thigh through his jeans, and when he was not reprimanded, continued.

Thumbs went into his belt loops and a cool mouth met his.

Izuku was always chilly to the touch. Even his tongue was cool when it swiped the seam of his lips. Izuku let out a noise of appreciation as Hitoshi dominated his mouth, rolling his tongue against that silver ball in his. When he pulled away, it was with his lower lip between his teeth.

The hand not holding his chain was soon full of curls, yanking his head back for Hitoshi to bite at the soft scales on his neck. Cold, black flame lit his throat up, a moan flaring instead of flames.

A harsh bite had Izuku gasping, breath hitching and nails digging into Hitoshi's hips. The pale hand moved from the back of his head to his shoulder, digging his own nails in to push him down.

"You know, baby," Hitoshi cooed, tilting Izuku's head up, lips ghosting over plump pink ones, "you would look so pretty with those lips around my dick."

He got a moan of agreement, his long tongue passing his lips, extended with his half-demonic state.

Hitoshi ran a finger down its middle, smile lazy. He leaned back, bracing himself on his hands. A sharp tug gave Izuku permission.

"No hands."

A rumble answered him. Hitoshi popped the button, watched Izuku pull down his zipper with lidded eyes. With a look, Hitoshi answered with raising his hips. He didn't scold him for his use of hands when both his jeans and boxers hit the floor, kicked away.

Izuku's forearms caged Hitoshi's thighs, hands fisted to keep him from using them. That long tongue was quick to wrap around the head of his cock, making Hitoshi sigh blissfully.

Hitoshi choked when the cool cavern wrapped around his dick fully, hitting base on the first go. He bucked up and Izuku let him, humming out a moan. That wicked, pierced tongue run up the underside vain as he came up, long canines brushing the sides.

"Fuck," Hitoshi cursed, tightening his fingers in curly green strands again to force him back down. He went easily, teeth scraping lightly and a quick breath taken through his nose.

"You take my cock so easily," Hitoshi praised, earning him another noise of pleasure. "So pretty and obedient. Beauti-ah-beautiful with my cock in your mouth." Hitoshi tugged him up and off, smashing their lips gracelessly.

Izuku made a breathless noise, something feral and pleading.

Hitoshi pulled him up, keeping their tongues dancing, lips locked and chain long forgotten to disintegrate, onto his lap. Hitoshi's thumbs found his waistband, pushing his black shorts and briefs down and away. When his hands found his lover's hips again, Izuku bucked him, sliding their erections together.

Hitoshi snapped at his neck again, biting harder when tanned fingers curled into his indigo locks.

"Please, mate," Izuku breathed, a wistful plea.

Hitoshi let out a soft sound, letting go of the other's neck to claim his mouth in a slow dance. A soft press of lips to say 'I love you'.

"Ya want to do it, then? Spread me open?"

"Just for me," the beast growled, throat flaring in barely contained fire and pale eyes narrowing in a leer. "Only me. Mine."

"Yes, baby," Hitoshi moaned out, bucking his hips. Izuku motioned for him to lay down, getting off his lap to dig in a drawer. Once Hitoshi settled, Izuku was between his legs, nipping and licking up his thighs.

The pop of a cap only spurred them on, Izuku teasing, pushing and pulling at sensitive skin and hard muscle.

Hitoshi tensed when a finger brushed his entrance, moaning out as his lover's tongue found his dick again. He tried to relax, focus on the tongue and not the odd sensation of fingers spreading him open.

"That's fine, baby. Come here," Hitoshi huffed, out of breath. Izuku let up, lubing his own cock as he pressed a gentle kiss to Hitoshi's lips. The man beneath him tensed as he was breached again, Izuku distracting him with soft kisses over his face and nips to his throat.

Izuku hissed at the sensation, slipping further in till there was nothing left, breath coming out in pants and moans. "Please, mate. Please."

A thin hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling him down so Hitoshi's lips ghosted his ear.

"Fuck me."

That's all he need.

Hitoshi cried out as Izuku set a rough pace, the need creaking with his force. His neck was littered with bites and hickeys as Izuku attacked his neck, lips swollen with aggressive kisses.

They didn't last long, Hitoshi's nails racking Izuku's back with a call of his name. A low growl left Izuku's throat in answer, thrust once, twice, before he stilled.

Hitoshi pet him, brushing his bangs away and cooing softly. "Such a good boy, baby. You made me feel so good."

Izuku purred, pulling out and falling to the side, scooping Hitoshi into his arms and cuddling him.

0oo00oo0

Hoshizora narrowed his eyes from his perch, petting the slowly tensing Sutāresu.

"What brings ya here, stranger?"

The man shifted, looking around at the thugs slowly closing in. Hoshizora casually leaned on his fist, elbow on his knee.

"I-I came because I know you have connections."

A slim, purple brow rose, inquiry met with more fidgeting from the man before him.

"Oh? With whom? What do you want to have done?" He stood, all elegance and grace, knee high boots clicking. He made a loose circle around the short, stubbly man, Sutāresu circling the opposite way.

"Aren't you looking for scientists in genetics?" The question was asked hesitantly, nerves making him shake.

"Hm," answered the showman. The beast at his call curled close to the good doctor, a low rumble leaving his throat. "What do you think boys? Looks a little timid to me."

The men laughed in agreement, the doctor going pale.

"I was sent here!"

That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. With a snap of his fingers, the fangs of the beast's maw was on his throat, small trickles of blood making its was down his thick neck and to the floor.

Sutāresu pinned him with both talons and stare, silent as the grave.

The thugs around them howled, calling for more blood. When Hoshizora held up his hand, they quieted.

"Who?"

"I-I-" He gulped, teeth sinking a little deeper. "Overhaul."

Hoshizora blinked. It was silent for a moment, nothing but breathing.

Then Hoshizora cackled.

"That old bird," he chuckled, calling Sutāresu to sit at his feet. A grin split his face, a manic kind of thirty lighting his dark eyes.

"This'll be fun. Sutāresu, heel."

-0-

And that's how they ended up like this.

Sutāresu was tied in the strong mesh of Eraserhead's scarf, flailing and roaring as the man tried to keep his eye on both the beast and his partner. Midnight, another hero they had run into, had already flooded the place with a light mist, making Hoshizora feel almost numb. He had a few scrapes, breath shallow. Panicked, black orbs landed on Sutāresu.

"Run, Master! RUN!" he cried, surprising the heroes. Hitoshi looked at Izuku for one more second, a thousand promises and truthful confessions passing between them.

Hoshizora turned and ran, one last cry over his shoulder.

"Don't speak!"

0oo00oo0

Aizawa watched the beast pace.

Back and forth.

Numbingly.

"Why don't you settle down, Sutāresu? You're not going anywhere."

Shouta Aizawa could have sworn he'd seen the beast roll his eyes.

Little bastard.

"How old are you? I know you can speak."

It shook its head and then tilted it back, pointing at the familiar leather collar around his neck. The claw went to where his mouth would be, motioning for silence.

Eraserhead understood, nodding.

"Are you there willingly?" he asked, watched the huge beast tense.

Izuku thought of his answer and what Sensei had done for them.

-0-

'I've connected the five of us with a newly acquired quirk,' Sensei explained.

Izuku, who was watching the heroes converse quietly at the large viewing window, tried not to jump for joy.

'Hito, Tomu, and Giri, too?'

'All here,' came Tomura's response.

'Have they hurt you? Are you okay?' Hitoshi's panicked thoughts asked.

'Fine. When Eraser tried to use his quirk I flailed around some. They think they hurt me.'

'And to heroes,' Sensei chuckled, 'what an awful thing to do to someone who may be unwillingly helping villains.'

'What do mean, Sensei?' Tomura questioned, a little betrayal on the fringe of his words.

Eraser turned to look at Izuku, who only stared eerily back.

'Izuku?'

'You want me to fool the heroes into thinking I'm innocent.'

'No!' Hitoshi panicked. 'We need to get him back!'

'Hito, love,' Izuku soothed. 'We could win a lot of favor here. I'll be here anytime you need me.'

'I...'

'I love you all, don't forget that.'

'Good luck,' Kurogiri spoke up, deep voice soothing.

-0-

He crawled over the window, sitting on his haunches. He put a clawed hand up to the glass, head tilted and eyes pleading for understanding.

Eraser looked on for a moment before putting his hand over Sutāresu's.

"Is it talking?"

Sutāresu jumped, scuttling back into his cell.

"No, but I did get some information," Eraser grunted, irritation narrowing his dark gaze as he pulled his hand from the glass.

Midnight, in all her Dom glory, winced. "What?"

"I don't think it's a willing villain, for one." Midnight looked at the beast in its cage, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And it can't speak with that command Hoshizora gave him." Sutāresu flinched at the name, which, as much as it pained him, was necessary.

Eraser tried to usher him forward, putting his hand back up to the glass. Izuku looked between the two heroes, gaze sharp. Slowly, he crept along the wall, away from Midnight, to get close to the window.

Midnight backed away, letting him peek out and stare. A tap at the window alerted him to the impatient Eraser.

He put his larger claw over the smaller human's hand.

"It's intelligent, then?"

A low growl was her answer. Eraser huffed, "I don't know, is it?" Eraser was the next one to get growled at. It took him a moment to figure out why. "He?"

Sutāresu sat back, hand still on the glass, smug.

"You got a name besides Sutāresu?" The beast stilled, looking down in thought, before shaking his head.

"I'm Aizawa."

Sutāresu tilted his head before inching closer to the glass. A low purr echoed through his small, cement cell.

"If I let you out, will you run?" Eraser quizzed, watching the sudden vigor the demon vibrated with. He went over the solid metal door, sitting there like an obedient puppy.

Aizawa didn't know whether to be amused or address the burning anger in his stomach.

He opened the door with his hero pass, only to get pounced on. Midnight cried out his name, spooked, but Eraser didn't move.

"You're heavy."

Sutāresu huffed, getting off the hero and helping him up with a claw. Aizawa was taller when he was all fours, but Sutāresu was about seven foot when he stood up.

"How old are you?" Aizawa asked as they made their way out of the cells to the front of the police station. Sutāresu stopped and held up all ten fingers before dropping four. "Sixteen?" He nodded.

He brushed his shoulder against Aizawa's side, minding to be on the opposite side of Midnight. Eraser wouldn't hurt him, but Midnight could still put him to sleep.

Aizawa mindlessly petted him, getting a purr for his efforts. Meanwhile...

'Hito! I got Aizawa to pet me!'

His mate mentally cackled, rolling along the floor. 'Probably because he only has cats for company.'

"Awe, look, Eraser! He purrs!" Midnight cooed.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," Aizawa warned. "I don't think he likes you much."

"I don't get why. I've never done anything to him. If anything, he shouldn't like you, with all the chasing you've done!"

"He enjoyed it. He can deny being a villain, but he liked the chase."

Sutāresu looked almost sheepish, shrugging his shoulders.

Aizawa opened a door, letting him into the back of the station, the break room for many of the officers. Some of the men and women in blue only gawked while a certain detective only sighed.

Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi was a plain looking man with short, dark hair, dark eyes and a tan trench coat that made him your stereotypical detective. Sutāresu looked around the room, tense by Aizawa's side.

"Why is he out here?"

"He was getting antsy," was Aizawa's explanation. Even Sutāresu gave him a blank look. "He's sixteen, doesn't know or have a name other than Sutāresu, and seems to be an unwilling participant in his actions."

"And you know this... How? He could be lying."

Because, Izuku thought, my acting is top notch. Thank you, Sensei, for the lessons.

"I know a victim when I see one," Aizawa grunted, petting Sutāresu again. He loosened up, leaning into the touch.

"You said he could speak?"

"Not anymore. Hoshizora used his quirk to silence him." Aizawa tapped Sutāresu's chin, making him tilt his head up to show the black collar.

The detective hummed. "Can he transform?"

"Don't know, but I don't think so," Midnight answered. "Eraser tried erasing his quirk and he thrashed around and screamed."

Aizawa looked at the teen at his feet, raising a brow. Sutāresu stood, towering over everyone before he started to shrink. His wings flaked and rotted, his tail curling until it disappeared. He stood now about 5'7", legs straight but still clawed and furred (mostly because that cloth on his hips covered nothing). His face was still blank, a metal ball marking where his lips would be.

Aizawa thought he could see a bit of green pop out of those dead, white irises.

"I noticed you pierced your lip. Got any more?" Midnight asked, eyes lidded and sultry.

Bitch, I got so much better at home.

His mouth cracked open, tongue lolling out to show another metal ball.

"And a gold hoop in his ear," Aizawa pointed out, cutting off a yawn. Sutāresu preened as Midnight complemented him, Aizawa watching them closely.

"I don't think he's telling the truth, Eraser. Because he can't speak, I can't use my quirk to confirm," Tsukauchi warned, keeping his voice low.

"I don't know," Eraser huffed, narrowing his eyes at the boy. He was dodging Midnight's attempts to glop him. "He gives me mixed signals. He flinches when you touch him but immediately leans into it afterwards. I've been the one chasing him but it's Midnight he's scared of."

"Have you considered that he thinks you won't hurt him? Midnight can put him to sleep without hurting him so it's still on the table." Aizawa grunted.

Sutāresu ran behind him, using him as a shield. Aizawa rolled his eyes, petting the mop if green-highlighted black.

"Leave him alone, Midnight."

"But he has freckles!"

Aizawa looked, amd sure enough, across the bridge of his nose were spots so pale they almost blended with his skin. Sutāresu tilted his head, as if he didn't know what she was talking about, eyes narrowing.


	6. I Am One God

Beasts of greatness shifted in their sleep, rumbling to each other in unspoken, forgotten speech. The red serpent, eyes closed and curled around his two equals, hummed a plan of action. The other two agreed, shifting in their sleep. Blue muscle rippled as he spoke of comfort, odd for his name and his ability. Their old language aroused the eldest, a soft rumble leaving its chest as he went over the idea.

Yes, he thought, perhaps it is time. So, they looked through dreams. There was one that always caught their eye as his time looped again and again, but he needed rest, the three agreed. They looked elsewhere. It took them maybe hundreds of years or simply seconds to find him, a babe fresh from the womb. His world ruled by those with abilities unique to the individual, but they smelled no such power from him. In their eternal slumber, the read his destiny, smiling softly as they rested. Yes, they agreed happily. He would do well.

They watched a waited, letting him grow as he would have if they hadn't drifted their gaze. He was bright, smart, and a kind soul. It reminded them of the destined before him, the one that sought their power, not for himself, but to save others. Before they knew, the young one was trapped, burning as the house around him writhed in ash and flame.

Now, they thought. Now, we must protect him where no one else can. We will lead someone to you, little one, so you my not be alone.

-0-

As water quelled the raging fire, a man in a black long-sleeve and gray sweats paused. He looked over, narrowing his eyes at the burning building like it was its fault he had ended up in his thoughts in a neighborhood he didn't recognize. Perhaps it was, but he didn't know that or what lay inside. He came up to the Firefighter Hero, Backdraft to ask what was happening, getting a shrug in response.

"It's too hot to go near, but I asked around. A man was spotted going in and coming out before the fire was visible. A woman and her son live here, but no one has seen them today."

"Spray me down, I'll go look," he ordered, ignoring the rush of reasons he shouldn't. As soon as he was wet, he went in from the top floor, using his capture weapon to vault up. He looked around, noting the two bedrooms and bathroom that made up the upstairs. He called out, but didn't hear a response, so he ventured downstairs. This is obviously where the fire stared, the house burning and beams falling. He noticed a woman and rushed over, checking for a pulse. He sighed when he found nothing.

"Anyone here? Kid?"

A small cough made his head whip, a small closet that was nearly untouched by the fire. He made his way over quickly, opening the door and gritting his teeth. The boy was unresponsive, eyes glowing an eerily red. Beautiful wings the same shade with black talons on their elbow of them covered him in a blanket, trying to block out the flames. When the pro hero picked the boy up- so light. A skinny little thing. That couldn't be healthy- he noticed his feet were scaled as well, ankle bent oddly to match a velociraptor with three thick talons (though, one was not lifted in the way the dinosaur equivalent would have been).

The man dashed up the stairs, the door blocked by burning debris. The upstairs was starting to completely burn, and in a split second decision, the man grabbed a small plush of a red dragon from the boy's bed before jumping from the window and using his capture weapon to slide to the ground safely.

"Eraserhead!" Backdraft called, happy to see his fellow hero safe. "You found the boy. His mother?"

"Dead," he said bluntly. "This wasn't an accident. She was in a pool of blood. I need a medic!"

The EMTs at the scene took the boy from him, letting him hop in the back with him as the sped off. He would be the boy's guardian until they could locate the boy's father, but from what he can see of the boy, that won't be happening. His wings were gone, the odd scales that covered his legs turning golden in color and more of them framing his face like a halo.

"His name is Izuku Midoriya," one of the nurses spoke up. "No Quirk registered. Must have been the stress. He's six with no other medical history."

"You sure?" the second asked, poking an prodding. "He seems to have a few poorly healed breaks. Ribs, an arm, his fingers are crooked. He should have been taken to the hospital for these."

"Abuse," Eraser huffed. "More than likely because they thought he was Quirkless."

"Monsters," the first nurse hissed. The other agreed with a nod. They shipped him off quickly when they reached the hospital, letting Eraser tag along wearily. He was on the phone with U.A.'s nurse, asking for her assistance in this. The next he called was his partner, rubbing his temple as the blond stammered through his relief that Eraser was alright.

"Hizashi," he spoke up, voice heavy. The man on the other line quieted. "He's been abused. Malnourishment, untreated breaks, bruises and cuts. That what I could see because the boy's wings had shredded his shirt."

'Oh, Shouta,' Hizashi cooed softly, 'I'll be up there in a minute. Hitoshi is here with me, so I'll have to bring him along.'

"I think the kid needs a friend," Shouta agreed, looking at the door the child had gone through. Recovery Girl, just getting there, brushed against his knee encouragingly before disappearing behind the door as well. "Be quick."

'Right. See you in a bit. Love you.'

"Love you, too." The line went dead, Shouta sighing and letting himself sag into the uncomfortable hospital chair he had claimed. It would be about twenty minutes before his husband got here, so he made himself comfortable. It took as long as he suspected for Hizashi to appear, being dutifully followed by the silent Hitoshi. The purple-haired child offered him a canteen of- hopefully- pitch black coffee. He sighed happily when his taste buds registered just that.

"Do you know his name?"

"Izuku Midoriya. Age six. No Quirk registered," Shouta rattled off. "That's all we know for now." Hizashi nodded as he picked up Hitoshi to settle the six-year-old in his lap. He tugged on Shouta's sleeve, pointing to the operating room beside them. "Yep. Said he had some bad bones they had to fix. That, and to make sure the fire didn't hurt his lungs." Hitoshi nodded, snuggling into Hizashi's chest.

They didn't have to wait long before an enraged Recovery Girl stormed out of the room.

"The nerve! He's practically a baby!" she roared, her cane clacking roughly on the tile. She noticed Hitoshi, calming herself as to not startle the child that had also been through so much. "Well, he'll be alright. No lung damage, but his energy is nothing because of a forced Quirk activation. Apparently, he was Quirkless, second toe joint and everything. It was the stress that forced the activation."

"I thought so," Shouta sighed. "His mother was caught in the fire, but I think that something else happened," he censored, minding the boy in his husband's lap. "His father?"

"A villain. Dragon, apparently. It makes sense, in all honesty. That poor boy. If I didn't know you any better, I would think that he would be going into the system."

"Never. Not in a thousand years," Shouta growled.

"Not with us here," Hizashi agreed. "Besides," he put his chin on Hitoshi's head, smiling when the boy loosened, "I think Hito needs a brother." Hitoshi looked up at his papa, tilting his head. "Yep! I think that'll work. Want a friend, Hito?" The boy thought it over for a moment before giving a slight, nervous nod. Hizashi chuckled, pulling the boy into a hug.

"Well, when he's moved, you should be able to follow him and see him. He's still under, so don't expect much," Recovery Girl warned. The small family nodded, following the gurney when the boy was ushered out. He was wrapped in casts, one on his left arm and another on his left leg. His fingers where all splinted on that same side, Making it look like someone had taken a car and ran it into the poor boy from the left.

"Whatever Quirk he manifested is helping him heal rather quickly," a nurse spoke up from Izuku's bedside as they transferred him from bed to bed. She pointed to the boy's leg, talons peeking from the cast. "Whatever transformation he went through helped him. His femoral shaft was broken and set incorrectly, so we had to re-break it."

Shouta hummed, looking down at the sleeping face of his rescuee. Izuku was pale, freckles spotting his cheeks under prominent eye bags and those haunted, ruby eyes closed. Green, curly hair framed his face in a halo and his cheeks, while still covered in baby fat, were shallow. He was so small under the blankets, thin and brittle.

"Thank you, miss. Do call when he wakes if we're not here. Eraserhead here is his acting guardian and he may be in danger from the villain that did this," Hizashi informed, bowing slightly to the nurse. She waved him off.

"You'll be our first call."

"Thank you."

Hitoshi climbed on the chair next to the white bed to peer at the young boy. Hitoshi noticed a few things very quickly and came to one conclusion.

This boy was just like him, abused and alone. Well, he wasn't alone anymore, and now Izuku wasn't either. Hitoshi would be his friend, his brother. His Dad and Papa would take care of him. He took a too-small hand with his own, squeezing gently to convey that he was there. Izuku was safe now. Hitoshi watched and waited until it was time to go, reluctantly waving goodbye to the boy in the hospital bed. He hoped he be awake next time they saw each other.

-0-

Hitoshi got his wish. The next time they went to the hospital two days later was because they had gotten a call. The boy was awake, eyes shifting to them wearily as they entered.

"Hey, kid. I'm Shouta Aizawa, a.k.a Eraserhead. I saved you from the fire," he explained.

"I'm Hizashi Yamada, Shouta's husband and Pro Hero Present Mic!" Hizashi exclaimed excitedly. "This button here is Hitoshi Aizawa. He's our son!"

Izuku took them all in but didn't say a word. His green eyes glittered, excitement making nearly shake. Shouta chuckled, taking a seat in the plastic chair at his bedside. Hitoshi was quick to climb into his dad's lap and offer a hand to the other boy, making sure to go slow. Izuku studied him for a second, taking his hand slowly. Izuku flinched slightly at the contact, but let Hitoshi keep ahold of his good hand.

"You might not have noticed," Shouta deadpanned, "but ya got a Quirk. Have any idea what it does?" Izuku looked at himself before settling on the talons coming from the cast that was strung in the air by a sling. Izuku's brows furrowed, confused. "I'll take that as a no. You know, kid, you're allowed to talk. So we can tell if anything is wrong."

Izuku watched them wearily, opening his mouth for a moment before snapping it shut. He seemed to panic, curling away from them but never letting go of Hitoshi's hand. He watched the two heroes, panic deep in his chest and fear clawing at his soul. He nearly jumped when deep rumbling echoed in his mind, his soul shaking with a language humans had forgotten.

Be calm, unspoken words hummed. We are with you, child ours.

Izuku loosened, unafraid. "I'm Izuku." The adults sighed, happy he responded.

"Well, Izuku, does anything hurt? Thirsty?" Hizashi questioned, pushing over second chair and settling down in it. Izuku took stock of himself, rolling his tense shoulders around a little and shifting as much as he could with his casts.

"Thirsty. Sore but no hurting," Izuku relayed, throat closing up before he could say more. The confidence that had peaked strangely died away, leaving him shaking a little. Hizashi offered him a glass of water, holding it up to his lips to help him. He put the now empty glass on the side table, his gaze soft as he took inventory. The boy was shirtless, exposing white bandages around his torso and scars on his uncasted arm.

"Do you remember anything?" Shouta questioned, wrapping his arms around his son. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Izuku wanted to, but when he opened his mouth to speak, this throat closed and he could barely breathe. The rumbling purr of ancient words was missing, leaving something empty and aching in the boy's chest.

He nodded, but pointed to his throat and made an 'x' with his fingers. They nodded in understand, Hitoshi excitedly gaining his attention to make the same gesture, letting go of Izuku's hand. Izuku blinked, sending a wobbly smile Hitoshi's way for the encouragement.

"Bet you're excited to find out what that Quirk of yours does," Hizashi hummed. Shouta said you looked like a red dragon! Right now, your scales are gold, though." Mic pointed around the outside of his face as a reference before digging in the bag he had brought and held up a small mirror. Izuku blinked at his reflection, feeling the scales with his free fingers, careful not to pull at the IV in his vein. "They're really pretty, little listener! Oh and Shouta saved this from the fire!"

Izuku looked up to spot the red dragon that had sat on his bed since he could remember. It was a present from his teacher, the only person who was nice to him. It was snake-like, a small set of arms eclipsed by a large, serpent-like head and wings. He had named him Slifer, the name sliding of his tongue and into his mind easily. He reached for it desperately, clinging it to his battered chest as soon as he had it. Shouta smiled softly, happy he had followed the urge to grab it.

"What's its name?" Hitoshi ask quietly, merely a whisper. Izuku looked at the little red dragon, smiling softly. He was happy that when he went to speak, his throat stayed open.

"Slifer," he informed, curling around it as much as he could. "Teacher made him."

"Your teacher? Where do you go to school?" Izuku blinked at Shouta before he motioned to a folder beside his bed. The hero looked through the folder, nodding to himself as he went through the information. Hizashi read over his shoulder, Hitoshi hopping down before joining Izuku in the bed, careful of any tubes. Izuku let Hitoshi pet the plush dragon, happily letting the older boy snuggle into his uninjured side. Both boys tensed as the door opened, but it was only Recovery Girl. Hitoshi loosened, but Izuku watched her closely.

"Hello, little ones, Yamada, Aizawa," she greeted smoothly, moving it Izuku's bedside. "Hello, Izuku. I'm Recovery Girl. I can heal up these broken bones of yours if you want me to." Izuku's eyes widened, sparkling with interest and excitement, but didn't say a word. He motioned to his leg, frowning at it. "I would agree. Healing that leg would probably be best for now. I have to touch you to heal you. Are you okay with that, dearie?"

Izuku nodded, watching in fascination as she kissed his cheek and the odd tingling in his leg stopped. Exhaustion hit him hard, unfortunately, and he slumped into Hitoshi. Recovery Girl chuckled, offering him a handful of gummies and handing Hitoshi some. "Eat those, dearie. Help you get your strength back. Lets get this plaster off you."

They had to cut it off, making Izuku very nervous. Once he was free, he tentatively stood on odd legs. He walked around the room, wobbly, before he was confident enough to try it without the wall to brace against. He nearly fell, but he caught himself.

"You're doing really well," Recovery Girl praised, a little sad when the boy practically preened. "Shouta said you had wings?" Izuku furrowed his brow, spinning in a circle to show them he didn't have any. "Hm. Try pulling them out, perhaps?" Izuku closed his eyes, focusing on his back. Something hot bubbled under his skin, fiery and alive, before the soothing, ancient rumble helped him forward.

Breathe, it huffed, shifting in its eternal sleep. Feel. We are here.

Izuku felt the fire spread before it smoothed out, skin warm but not bubbling. His balance evened out as a long, red tail curled around him, wings making his shoulders heavy. His eyes were a matching crimson when he finally opened them, his scales changing to match. His fingers had turned to the same black claws that where on his feet, dangerous and sharp.

Izuku snapped out of his little trance when he heard Hitoshi clapping, smiling brightly. "So cool," he hummed, circling Izuku as he took in his new appearance. A rumbling purr escaped Izuku, his tail curling around Hitoshi's arm. It had to be two meters long, thinning as it went, the end whip-like. Hitoshi giggled before he pet the tail, Izuku still purring happily.

"Well then," Recovery Girl spoke up, breaking the silence. "Quite a Quirk you have there, dearie. You look rather strong like that."

Izuku smiled, looking over himself. "It's really cool," he sighed, "but I'm cold."

"Reptiles, Izuku," Hizashi laughed, Shouta chuckling along. "They're cold blooded. Maybe you are, too."

"Was fine," he argued. He stretched as much as he could, spreading his wings and lengthening his spine, careful of the arm still in a sling. "Feels good."

"I bet it does," Recovery Girl agreed, "but you need to turn it off. I would like to fully heal you before you start experimenting. Maybe get some meat on you bones."

Izuku focused, but apparently, summoning the power forth was a lot easier than locking it away again. It took him a solid fifteen minutes before he found the switch to turn it off. He glanced at his scales, which remained a blood red. "Stays." Hitoshi nodded, poking Izuku's calf.

"Why don't we get you back to bed, sweetheart? I'm sure you're exhausted," Recovery Girl reasoned, Izuku yawning and nodding along. Yes, he would rest, and hopefully, he'd be back in shape soon. He let his mind wander a bit as they walked down boring hallways. Would they make him go back home? Was his mother even alive? The apartment had been burned, right? Does he even have a home anymore?

"You think too loud, kid," Shouta huffed, making Izuku shrink. "That's not a bad thing. Penny for your thoughts?"

"Home?"

Shouta sighed. "Your mother didn't make it and your house is burned to the ground. You're going to be staying with us, if you want." Izuku thought about it, rolling the idea in his mind. Stay with Eraserhead and Present Mic? Have Hitoshi around all the time? Did he want that.

Izuku looked up at his guardian, trying to puzzle him out. "Stay."

"I'll make sure you don't regret it, Izuku."

He smiled.

-0-

Izuku looked around his new home with a keen interest. It smelled odd, his stronger senses picking up something unfamiliar. Under it all, the scents of everyone who lived here was burned into the very fabric of the place. Like sleepiness and lemons. Like leather and something Izuku couldn't quite put a name to.

"Welcome home!" Hizashi called out from the kitchen. Hitoshi peeked out from a hall, smiling brightly when he caught sight of green.

"Izu!"

Home, Izuku realized. It smelled like home, like family.

He let Hitoshi hug him, using his strong legs to pick the other boy up and twirl around a few times. Once he set his brother down, he let the shorter (now. With his legs bent in their odd way, he shot up a few inches) lead him around. Hizashi called them over for lunch, rice and miso since Izuku couldn't have anything too heavy. The poor boy was skin and bones and Recovery Girl had him on a strict diet for a few months. Izuku happily ate, no complaints as he ate what he could.

Once he was done, finishing only half, he awkwardly sat there and listened to the banter between the two eldest. Shouta- of course, it was him- notice he hadn't eaten anymore, raising a brow.

"Full?"

Izuku shrank into himself for a moment, afraid. With shaking hands buried in his lap, Izuku nodded hesitantly.

"That's alright, little listener! I knew you wouldn't be able to eat that much at the start! You've been under some heavy pressure, kiddo, so no biggy!" Hizashi assured. "Ya just gotta tell us, alright? No one is gonna hurt you, bud. Especially over something as silly as being full." Izuku stared at him for a moment, confused, before he nodded and relaxed slightly. Right, he could do this.

"I got your bowl," Shouta spoke up, taking the items deposing of the leftover food before putting them in the sink to be washed. Izuku moved to go over to the since, but Shouta steered him away. "No you don't, Izuku. Not your job. Hizashi did dinner so it's my turn at dishes."

Izuku tilted his head. "What's mine?"

"Nothing, for now. We gotta find something for you to do, if you wanna help. You should be resting, but you don't seem the type," Shouta huffed. Izuku nearly shrieked when something warm brushed against his leg. He looked down to find himself being rubbed on by a feline. That was the odd smell, Izuku thought. Cats. He'd never had a pet before, but the feline, black in color with bewitching yellow eyes and a gray band around its neck that blended with its collar, seemed friendly enough. He scooped the cat up, stroking its fur to smooth it out. The animal purred, the feeling vibrating against Izuku's chest.

It reminded him of the voice that didn't speak, something primal in his blood that understood the language that humans couldn't hear. He purred back, the noise rattling his jaw till he chittered. The cat rubbed on him some more, settling into his hold.

"Huh. Here I thought Eraser hated everyone," Hizashi stated, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture. Izuku blinked, his rumbling not stopping as he looked at the device with wariness. Hizashi chuckled, snapping a few more and making it his home screen.

"Shouta?" Izuku questioned.

"No, Izuku. The cat. His name is Eraser." Izuku blinked down at the cat, smiling faintly as he continued to purr. Izuku decided something right then and there. He liked cats.

"He's warm," Izuku hummed, plopping down gently in front of the couch, happily petting the cat and making sure his fur was orderly.

"Why don't you sit on the couch, kiddo?" Hizashi asked, watching Hitoshi follow his advice and sitting on the couch near the other boy. Izuku seemed confused.

"On the furniture?" Hizashi's heart squeezed, a grimace on his face before he schooled himself.

"Yeah, kiddo! Your allowed to chill on the furniture. What's ours is yours, little listener!" Izuku took it to heart, lifting himself to settle on the couch next to Hitoshi, leaning on him as the purplette pet the normally grouchy cat in Izuku's arms. Hizashi made his way to the kitchen where Shouta was finishing up the dishes. He curled his arms around his waist and settled his nose into Shouta's neck, sighing.

"I heard," Shouta whispered. "That poor kid."

"That poor baby," Hizashi corrected, voice tight. "They're six, Shouta. Hitoshi still rarely speaks and Izuku..." He buried his face into his husband's shoulder, the weight of their children settling on his shoulders.

"Papa! Dad! Something's wrong!"

They both bolted to the front room, eyes flickering over their little ones. Hitoshi seemed fine, if panicked. Izuku...

Between his scales were glowing like molten lava, his breathing labored and nails, thankfully not claws, were digging at his chest. Red eyes flashed to them, panicked and in pain.

"Too much," Izuku gasped. He fell off the couch, landing with a solid thump. Shouta activated his Quirk, and while the bright veins dulled, Izuku let out a high pitched whine. "Too much." Shouta blinked, letting Izuku get his power back and sat him up slowly, trying not to hurt him.

"Activate your Quirk, Izuku." He did as he was told, sighing in relief as the urgency and pain went away, his body cooling from the molten bubbling. "Better?" Izuku nodded slowly, stretching his wings and snuggling into Shouta's side. Shouta sighed, burying his nose into Izuku's hair and holding him close. Hitoshi got his attention, signing the letters 'o' and 'k'. Shouta nodded, hoisting Izuku up and laying him on the couch after Hitoshi stood up.

"Recovery Girl said that his Quirk must have stored up energy and threatened to burst. He needs to let it out, eventually," Hizashi informed, phone still to his ear. "She's coming to see him. Twenty minutes." Shouta nodded, watching Hitoshi sit on the floor beside Izuku's head and comb pale, long fingers through thick, green curls.

Izuku's breathing had evened out, the fiery veins a dull glow. He seemed coherent enough, purring as Hitoshi pet him. Chiyo arrived a few minutes before schedule, immediately going for the couch. She looked him over, Izuku tensing every time she touched him before loosening into Hitoshi's skilled fingers. She tutted, looking to the guardians.

"As I said. A power overload. He'll be alright, but I think he'll have to be in that form more than not," Chiyo huffed. "That wouldn't be so bad except, with those claws, he cant do much."

"Practice," Izuku hummed, content as one of the cats, Ginger, curled on his chest.

"I suppose you'll have to. You should take him to U.A., Shouta. See what his Quirk can do and if he can spend most of that energy." Shouta nodded, taking the advice.

"First, we need to get him some things. Furniture, clothes, something for shoes if we can," Shouta sighed. "Was hoping I could call Nemuri over for that. You know I can find my way through a bag, let alone a mall."

"With no fashion sense to speak of," Hizashi cackled. "Yeah. I was thinking tomorrow, going up to the mall and shopping it out." He turned to Izuku, face soft. "Can help with those wings, I'd imagine. Maybe we can call Hawks for a flying lesson."

"I think that makes the most sense," Chiyo agreed. She huffed, patting Izuku on his knee and heading for the door. "You boys take good care of them."

"Always," they both promised. Chiyo bid them farewell, leaving the family in peace. Izuku huffed, stretching out on the couch before curling into a tight ball, tail wrapping around himself before curling loosely around Hitoshi's wrist. Hitoshi only chuckled, continuing to ruffle Izuku's hair.

"Bath," Hitoshi hummed, smiling. Izuku looked up, eyes sparkling. Hitoshi laughed, dragging him to the bathroom and setting the tub for him. Hitoshi laughed as Izuku purred, hot water warming his cool skin. His blood was warm, they figured out, but he ran a little colder than everyone else, just enough to be uncomfortable. Hitoshi helped him wash his hair and his back and wings (so he didn't hurt himself with his claws), giggling as Izuku chittered at him. He let Izuku borrow his clothes, the shirt to big and the pants flooding a little.

Izuku looked like he could die happy. He curled up on the couch, happy as a clam, finally clean and warm. Hizashi figured his Quirk gave him a flexible spine, letting Izuku curl into a tight ball.

They let him sleep, content and resting until dinner, after which he curled into the guest room that would soon be his, his little plush dragon in his arms.

-0-

Izuku looked around wearily, sticking close to Hizashi. He wished that Shouta was here, the calm, tired man soothed him. Hitoshi was with him, holding a wrist so he didn't cut himself on Izuku's claws. Nemuri, or Midnight, as she was better known as, ranted as they walked through the mall lobby. He was in his more human form, wings away and the scales on his face nearly invisible.

"I cant believe these people! You'd look so cute in plad, Izuku. If we gave you any more green, you'd look like a christmas tree." Izuku giggled, listening to her tirade as they entered a clothing store. The clerk knew her by name, exchanging greetings before setting to work. She asked about clothes with space on the shoulders, motioning to Izuku and explaining his Quirk. The clerk nodded and showed them the section happily.

They found a few things, make sure to test if Izuku could transform or not. Nemuri blinked when Izuku sneezed, his scales shifting from red to blue, to golden, before settling on red again. They continued their sweep of the store, making sure to get shorts Izuku could fit his claws in. The opted to simply order some resistant cloth coverings for his feet, being ordered from a support company along with gloves for his hands.

They wandered into a toy shop next, telling the boys to pick their share. Izuku got another dragon plush, a western-style one that was golden with mechanical wings. Izuku named him Ra, cuddling him to his chest. Hitoshi got a little cat plush, brown with green eyes. They also got some coloring books and puzzles to share before moving on.

They moved on to furniture, ordering a large, round bed that looked almost like a dog bed, some blankets that Izuku approved of, and plush pillows. Nemuri teased him on making a nest, but the boy only stared at her blankly. After that, they went to the food court, Izuku getting some rice so his stomach didn't betray him. They went home soon after, the boys antsy around so many people. Hizashi and Nemuri labeled it a success.

They got home and helped Izuku set up his room, him making his little nest and curling into it afterward, tired and satisfied.

-0-

Izuku shifted on his feet, nervous. He was in his hybrid form (what they've been calling it, but Izuku feels there's something more), wings fluttering nervously. Hawks, the number three hero, was with him, along with the principle, Nezu, and Shouta. He hopped a little, trying to work out some energy, antsy.

"Nervous, Young Midoriya?" Nezu asked, tone cheerful.

"Aizawa."

"What, kiddo?" Hawks asked, tilting his head. He looked like an owl.

"Aizawa, he said," Shouta repeated, smiling softly. Izuku sent him a wobbly one in return.

"Nervous, but excited," Izuku spoke again, bending his knees into an awkward-looking crouch. He flexed his wings, widening them and flapping once. The wind was strong, making them lean back a little.

"Some strong flappers ya got there, Aizawa," Hawks complemented. He spread his own impressive wingspan of red feathers, not nearly as big as Izuku's. He crouched low as well, taking off with a harsh beat of his wings. Izuku mimicked him, shooting past him in a spin. In slow, powerful beats, the youngest kept himself afloat, twirling and looping in the sky like he owned it.

"You're pretty good, kid," Hawks chuckled. "Wanna race? Just around the arena so we don't give your pops a heart attack." Izuku nodded enthusiastically, something primal puffing up at the challenge. They began near the entrance, jetting off on three. Izuku had to practically turn sideways to turn the sharp corners. Hawks, much smaller but without a tail to help balance himself, got the corners rather easily. Izuku, on the last stretch, pulled ahead easily, much faster than Hawks.

The hero whistled, hovering in the air as Izuku dipped and dived, laughing joyously. "You're strong, Aizawa. You gotta work on those turns, dude. Use your tail to turn sharper."

Izuku tried, snapping his tail and turning sharply. He wobbled, but caught himself easily.

"Come on down, you two," Shouta called, Hawks landing first to give a demonstration. Izuku followed, nearly falling on his face. Hawks laughed, nodding in sympathy. "Working on landings as well."

"You did very well!" Nezu praised, chuckling as the boy preened, chittering his teeth. The animal Nezu still was soothed by the noise. "Do you think you can draw any power, Young Aizawa? Eraser said you were glowing the other day."

Izuku tilted his head, brows furrowing. He shifted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His veins glowed, fire lighting in his blood. Hawks whistled again, impressed. Izuku opened his eys, pupils in slits and a growl in his throat. Baring his teeth, Izuku opened his mouth, a beam of light charging just before his lips. He had enough sense to let it off upward, so he didn't hurt anyone. He wobbled a bit, blinking. He looked to his guardian, who was wide-eyed.

"That's cool."

Hawks snorted. "Hell yeah, it was."

"Don't swear in front of my kid," Shouta griped. "That's dangerous. Don't use it until you can focus it into a smaller beam. That'll take out half a city." He watched Izuku shrink, sighing. "It was... pretty cool, though." He brightened up, wings fluttering behind him happily. "Anything else you got for us, kid?" Izuku concentrated, feeling for any more switches. He found one but stayed away from it. He was looking for smaller switches and that wasn't what he was looking for. Izuku's eyes snapped open, still red with slitted pupils, and a red aura enveloped him.

Hawks squawked (ha) as his feathers started tensing and softening without command, Shouta's eyes flickering red and black, blinking rapidly. "Ah, Young Aizawa, I would turn that off."

He did quickly, stepping closer with an outstretched hand. Shouta shook off whatever caused his Quirk to go haywire and took the offered hand. "I'm alright, Izuku. Eyes are just a little dry." Izuku nodded, satisfied when Hawks gave him a thumbs up, pumping his wings once as prof.

"Your aura made our Quirks go haywire. Very interesting. My thoughts were rather scrambled, but other than that, I was unaffected," Nezu reported. "Anything up your sleeve?"

"Dangerous," Izuku tried to explain, wrinkling his nose. "A step." His scales turned blue in a wave, starting at his feet before moving up through the scales framing his face and through his wings. "Too much." Shouta nodded, taking his word for it.

"With some work, then. Let us get this form mastered first," Shouta advised, the other two heroes agreeing with nods. "What are you gonna call it? The form and your Quirk. We never did ask."

"Osiris," Izuku spoke after thinking it over. It felt right, slipping off his lips easily. "Then Obelisk... one more..." Izuku tilted his head, worrying his lip. He caught Shouta's gaze, his rippling gold and his eyes burning with molten power before it melted away. "Ra."

"The three gods," Hawks noticed. "Osiris is the Dragon of the Skies. Obelisk the Tormenter and the Dragon of Ra." Izuku nodded, shifting. Those felt right. Their names. It was something etched in his soul, he realized then, just like the language that wasn't spoken. He peeked at the principle, a low rumble leaving his chest. He watched as something clicked, but it wasn't given back.

"You can hear it," Izuku huffed, disappointed, "but you don't speak it." Shouta was confused, Hawks blinking owlishly (ha). Nezu hummed.

"An odd way of putting it," Nezu agreed, "but accurate. My intelligence blocks a lot of primal urges. You're in tune with yours."

"The cats," Shouta realized. "That's why cats like you so much."

"We use the same..." Izuku thought is over for a moment. "Same voice. Not words, but there." His wings fluttered behind him, Hawk's doing the same in response. "They speak it."

"Who? I have a feeling you don't mean the felines," Nezu questioned. Izuku hesitated, looking to Shouta before looking at his feet. They were wrapped in what looked like leather straps, but it was just sown onto a sleeve that hugged his reptilian feet. His hands had the same coverings and Izuku used them to distract himself.

Safe, unspoken words hummed. We are here.

Izuku loosened, all tension gone. Nezu blinked. "Something happened."

"Them." Izuku flashed all three colors, still calm and loose. "They speak, but without words. Movements, small sounds. Instinct."

"You're saying the gods talk to you?" Hawks asked, awed.

"Yes and no. They're there but are asleep. I don't wanna wake them." Shouta nodded.

"I think it better if you don't. They're sleeping for a reason," he agreed. "Lets go get something to eat. I'm sure Lunch Rush can whip up something."

The two- Hawks had work and Nezu had papers to sign- made their way to the cafeteria, now filled with students. Izuku, still uncomfortable in large crowds, clung to his dad's side as to not get swept away. Shouta huffed, picking the boy up and placing him on his back, much like a koala. Everyone who knew the terrifying teacher of class 1-A just stared, confused.

"Hey, Mr. Aizawa? Who's the kid?" a brave soul asked, hesitent.

Izuku snuggled into Shouta's neck, making sure his claws weren't digging in when he shifted. Shouta stared at the student for a moment, blankly, making them uneasy. He turned to the child on his shoulder, loosening and his gaze becoming soft. Everyone blinked.

"Introduce yourself," Shouta commanded softly, petting green curls. Red eyes peeked out from Shouta's long, black hair, blinking shyly at the students. His tail curled around his father's waist, pulling their bodies close.

"I'm Izuku Aizawa. It... It's nice to meet you," he whispered, cuddling back into Shouta's shoulder. The entire cafeteria was silent for all of three seconds before they were overwhelmed by an 'AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWE'. After another few seconds, they realized something.

"HE'S SO CUTE, HOW IS HE AIZAWA'S KID?!"

"He's adopted," Shouta responded, getting his and Izuku's food on a tray from Lunch Rush. "Don't bother him unless he talks to you first. Bother me and I'll sic his puppy eyes on you."

They all flinched. No thanks. Unpack y'all, no guilt trip today.

Shouta took them to the teacher's lounge, Izuku letting Nemuri cuddle next to him as he munched on rice balls. They had fish in the middle, making Izuku purr happily, Nemuri practically vibrating next to him with the force of it. He was nearly done when he was interrupted.

"Hey, little listener! I brought a vanilla shake! Don't worry, I asked Recovery Girl and she said one would be okay!" Hizashi called out, coming in with a bang. Izuku peeked over the back of the couch, munching and swallowing the last of his rice. Hizashi held up a strafoam cup like it was a offering, Izuku taking it gingerly to avoid puncturing it. He looked at the cup for a moment before looking at Nemuri for help.

"Ya sick on the straw, kiddo," she explained, pointing to the utensil. He maneuvered around his fangs, sucking on it lightly. When nothing happened, he let go, brows furrowed.

"A little harder, Izuku," Nemuri laughed, pointing to were you could see the shake in the plastic straw. "Almost there." Izuku tried again, jumping when the cold beverage hit his tongue. He ignored the cold for a moment, rolling the shake in his mouth for a moment before swallowing. "Well?"

Instead of answering, Izuku sunk into the couch with the straw in his mouth, sucking it down slowly. They all laughed, warning him that he would get a brain freeze. Apparently, his mystic powers extended to anti-brain freeze.

Izuku, after lunch, followed his dad to his homeroom. There was only four students in there, making Izuku tilt his head.

"Dad," he called shyly, drawing Shouta's gaze, "why are there only four?"

"Because high school is hard," Shouta offered, "and they had no potential."

"Po... poe-ten-seal," Izuku sounded out, struggling with his fangs.

"Poe-ten-shul," Shouta corrected. "Good try. It means what something can become."

"Useless?" Izuku breathed, looking frightened, eyes wide and breath catching. Shouta picked him up and sat him on the teacher podium.

"Not useless. Just not hero material."

The class (if you can call it that) watched wearily. Was this their teacher? He was so soft and patient!

"Do I have it?" Izuku asked, still breathless.

"Endless amounts, Izuku. Now, why don't we all go outside and show Izuku how the hero course does things." Shouta watched the four leave to change into gym clothes, leaving the two of them alone. Shouta sighed. "You know, Izuku. I have a reputation and you bash it half to death with how adorable you are."

Izuku went red, reminding Shouta of a strawberry or a watermelon. "So-sorry."

"Nothing you did," Shouta assure, "you're just cute." He turned and offered his back to his son, who curled around Shouta carefully. They made their way to a field, four students waiting. "Good. Hizuki, you're paired with Montra. Gintama, with Hugo. We're sparing today."

Shouta set Izuku down and walked across the field before turning to face him. "Your hybrid form, Izuku. Don't want your claws to get me." Izuku powered down, shifting his shoulders and getting used to the lack of weight and his odd balance without his tail. "Come at me. Lets see if you can use those claws."

Izuku looked a little weary, but he can at his father, fast and agile. He jumped and kicked out, obviously untaught, but with enough power to force Shouta to properly block. "You're strong, but sloppy. Throw a punch and then I'll show how to do it properly." Izuku did as was asked, backing away before charging again, pulling a fist back before it was caught in Shouta's palm. "Good. Stay there, I'll show you how to do it."

Shouta stood beside his six-year-old. He got into a stance, waiting for Izuku to mimic him before he corrected the errors. He threw a punch, elbow down and am straightening in a flash before drawing back to his body, his non dominant hand crossed over his chest to block an invisible blow. He explained it before going slow through the motions. Izuku copied him, nearly getting it first try. With a few modifications, Izuku could throw a rather nasty haymaker.

"You did well," Shouta praised. "Now, for those legs of yours. I'm going to show you how I do it and then we'll work from there." He turned sideways, left foot first, and leaned all his weight forward. He brought up his knee and lashed out quickly before grounding himself on two legs. Izuku turned, leaned forward, and as soon as his other leg left the ground, his face was in the dirt.

"Started strong. Try again and lets find out where you went wrong." Izuku huffed, frustrated. He stood, squared, leaned forward, but as soon as his other leg was up, he nearly fell. Wrinkling his nose, he looked to Shouta. The elder crouched, tapping Izuku's reptilian ankle. "You're overbalancing, Izuku. Try standing on one leg." Izuku rose his right leg, bringing his knee to his chest. He didn't even wobble. "Other one." He planted both feet before he lifted his left leg, still perfectly balanced.

"You gotta let your body work for you, Izuku. Try a kick again, but don't lean so far forward. Keep straight." Izuku followed the advice, successfully lashing out with his leg, only wobbling when he pulled it back to plant his feet again. "Very good. You did well, kiddo." He ruffled Izuku's hair and moved to the other side of the arena. He took a stance, Izuku mirroring him before he shifted a little when his legs protested the stance. He got comfortable before he shot out like a rocket, aiming a kick at his father, who spun out of the way.

"You're a lot shorter than me. Aim for the knees. Sweeping an opponent off their feet will save you life," Shouta advised, jumping when Izuku swept for his ankles. "Remember you have hands." Izuku sent his leg out for Shouta's knee before he pulled back and lashed out with a fist, nearly nailing Shouta in the gut. When he backed away, now-green eyes sparkled, a tail wrapping around Shouta's ankle and tripping him. Izuku pounced, causing Shouta to grunt when he landed on his diaphragm.

"Your tail," Shouta deadpanned. "That's cheating. How come you're not transformed?" Izuku huffed, looking at his tail before it started to disappear.

"Thought about it," Izuku explained, narrowing his eyes. "Wanted to catch you."

"Good job, you got me," Shouta sighed, chuckling. "Anything you want as a treat?"

"Shake!" Izuku cried happily, throwing his hands up.

"Your papa said you liked them, but you've had one today. I'll get one tomorrow." Izuku huffed, but didn't complain, excited and purring happily. "Turn on your Quirk, Izuku. Your veins are showing." Izuku looked down, eyeing his red, glowing veins.

"Excited," Izuku countered. "Don't feel bad." He got off Shouta's chest, smiling. "Need practice."

"I agree, but you did really well. Good job, Izuku." He purred and preened, pushing into Shouta's hand when he ruffled his hair.

"That was cool!" Izuku turned to look at the students, who had stopped to watch. The girl who who spoke up had brown, long hair in a pony tail and bright yellow eyes. She had no visible Quirk, so Izuku stayed cautious. "You're, like, what? Seven?"

"Six," Shouta corrected. "A little guidance goes a long way. If you all listened, it would be the same." Izuku pulled at his pant leg, getting his attention. He pointed to his students, curious.

"No listen?"

"Not really. I have to yell at them allot."

Izuku turned to them, eyes wide and lip pouting. His deadly weapon on that cute, freckled face.

Puppy eyes.

"Don't make Dad yell. His eyes always hurt and he wants to teach. He's a good teacher." They all nearly died, holding their chests as their hearts squeezed and guilt pressured them.

"We're sorry, Mr. Aizawa."

"I'm keeping you," Shouta told Izuku, grinning madly. "On hand. At all times." The four froze, groaning.

"He's too cute!"

-0-

"That's so mean," Hizashi laughed at dinner that night. "Izuku's puppy eyes are weapons of mass destruction."

Izuku's eyes went wide before he teared up. "I hurt people?"

"NO!" they both assured, "you're just cute!" Hizashi finished. Hitoshi laughed, smiling.

"You talk more." Izuku huffed, crossing his arms.

"So do you! Been practicing." His voice was always soft, a whisper, but he did talk more. It made his family happy, so Izuku tried for them.

"That's good!" Hizashi praised. "We should teach you sign language! Hitoshi is learning to, so he can help." Izuku nodded, smiling.

"I'll teach you," Hitoshi promised.

-0-

July first came around, streamers all around the house when the boys came home from school (they had switched Izuku to Hitoshi's school, and since then, bullies have been nonexistent). Balloons of purple and gray littered the floor, brightly wrapped boxes on the table and an awesome smell coming from the kitchen.

"We're home," Shouta called out, putting the car keys on their hook.

"Happy birthday, Hitoshi!" Nemuri called, spinning around in a pink turtle neck and jeans. "Go get changed, you two! We got a party to throw!"

A boy their age peeked around her legs, blue hair and glasses framing dark eyes. He walked up to them, holding out a stiff hand.

"Hello! I'm Tenya Iida."

"Hitoshi Aizawa. This is my brother Izuku. You can call us by our first names," Hitoshi spoke up, signing as he went. Izuku followed his hands closely, trying to memorize the movements.

"Then you may call me Tenya! Is he deaf?" Tenya asked, worried.

"No," Izuku spoke up. "I'm just learning."

"Ah. That's a good thing! You can communicate with more people!" Izuku nodded, smiling at their new friend.

"See? You were scared they wouldn't like each other," Nemuri teased an older version of Tenya. "This is Tensei. Tensei, Izuku."

"Nice to meet you, Izuku. It's good to see you again, Hitoshi. Happy birthday," Tensei greeted. Izuku looked lost, stepping further into the house so he could go change. Hitoshi followed, pausing when Izuku turned to him. He huffed, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Why are people all happy?"

"It's my birthday?" Hitoshi said, more a question then statement.

"I don't get it." Hitoshi raised a brow. "I never did anything like this... Teacher gave me Slifer for my birthday... but I thought she was being nice?"

"You didn't celebrate your birthday?" Hitoshi asked. "Me neither, with my old parents. They were always meaner on my birthday, so I used to hate it." Izuku huffed, pulling at a curl. "We should go get changed." Izuku nodded and turned around to his room. He put on loose, gray shorts and black tee shirt. Hitoshi came out in much the same, sweat pants and a cat hoodie.

"We celebrate it. This is only my second year, though. The first one was because of the lady that ran the orphanage liked me and gave me stuff. I was little, so I don't remember much," Hitoshi explained. "It's really fun, though. Ice cream and stuff."

The boys rejoined the others, Izuku finding Shouta's side at the table. Shouta leaned over a bit, smiling at him. "If it gets to much, say something." Izuku nodded, purring. He retracted his claws, flaring his wings slightly to stretch. He watched everyone flutter around, happy to see everyone around him joyous and excited. Something in his chest, he thought, was content.

"Hoard."

"What?" Shouta asked, letting Izuku lean on him.

"Hoard. Mine." Izuku gestured to the people around him, purring. "Mine. Happy." Shouta chuckled. He ruffled Izuku's hair, huffing in amusement when he vibrated with a purr. They ate dinner- some kind of American food. Izuku could only have a little bit- before they had cat-shaped cake and vanilla ice cream. Izuku had a shake, preferring it to its more solid form of ice cream.

Next, after all the food had settled in their stomaches, it was presents. Izuku as a little upset, not having anything (mainly because he didn't know he needed something) to give to Hitoshi. The purplette just cuddled into his side on the couch, making him cut boxes as they went.

Nemuri had gotten his a cat onesie, purple with a lilac belly. He went and changed into it immediately, humming happily as he settled back into Izuku's side. The Iida brothers had gotten both boys bikes, one gray and one green. The peddles were modified for Izuku's odd feet, making him well with tears.

"You look like you're going to cry, Izuku," Hizashi chuckled, patting his shoulder.

"Happy," Izuku explained. Hitoshi laughed, hugging Izuku before dragging him back to the couch to open the rest of the gifts. The only ones left were from their parents, two boxes sitting innocently. One was smaller, long and narrow. The other was huge and Izuku just stared at it, confused. The small box (from Shouta, no doubt) contained two necklaces. The chains were thick and durable, one with a wolf curled around a ball of amethyst and another with a dragon curled around an emerald. They boys put them on, eyes watering as they hugged their dad. Hitoshi looked at the big, lumpy thing that was sat across the room, wrapped sloppily and with a lot of tape.

Hitoshi tried pulling it, but the tape was like a cocoon. Izuku, very carefully, tore the tape with a claw, giving Hitoshi a hold to tear the wrapping. It ended up being a huge, stuffed bear, nearly as large as Hizashi himself when he stood next to it. Hitoshi pushed the giant thing on its back, splaying over its belly and using its head as a pillow. Shouta nodded in approval, getting groans from the adults present. Tenya scolded him, saying he was going to get the black fur dirty on the floor. Hitoshi stared at him blankly.

"We own cats," he deadpanned, signing as he went. "Everything is dirty for eternity." Iida huffed, but didn't refute him. He turned to Izuku, chopping at hand at him, causing the dragon hybrid to jump.

"When is your birthday, Izuku? How old will you be turning?"

"Fourteen days. Seven." Hitoshi blinked, turning to Shouta.

"We should just celebrate on the eighth," he huffed. "Right in the middle." Shouta nodded.

"We might just do that. This year, we'll just have two. Izuku's falls on a weekend, so no worrying about school." With that, the household agreed.

-0-

The fifteenth went much the same. Many milkshakes and katsudon later, presents were handed out. A giant, durable bean bag in a tone of cool gray from Shouta. A visit from Hawks (he had heard from Hizashi) with one of his feathers on a chain for both boys ("You can call me when you need me!"). The Iida siblings had gotten him drawing utensils (the thousands of different pencils, Prismacolor markers, an acid-free sketchpad), saying that Hitoshi had seen him doodling and they had been really good. Hizashi gotten a giant, green dragon plush ("Where are you finding these?" "Nowhere."), Nemuri giving him a Toothless onesie so he and Hitoshi could have a onesie party.

Hitoshi looked a little shy about his, handing Izuku a little wooden carving. It was obvious novice work, Eraser's goggles molded from wood. Izuku nearly burst into tears. He hugged him, making sure his claws didn't materialize, twirling him around. He rubbed his cheek against Hitoshi's and on his neck, primal need for his hoard to smell like him taking over.

"Happy. Good," Izuku rumbled, purr low in his chest. He turned to everyone, smiling widely. "Thank you!"

-0-

Izuku was curled in a tree, sunbathing in the front yard before his father strolled out of the house, staring at a piece of paper with distain. Izuku used his claws to climb down, joining his dad.

'Shopping?' Izuku signed, nodding when Shouta grunted at him.

"Hizashi is at work and Hitoshi is sleeping." Yes, never wake Hitoshi. He never gets sleep as it is. It was a silent rule in the Aizawa-Yamada household.

"I'll come with," Izuku huffed, stretching. At ten, he was nearly five foot six, catching up to his parents quickly, reaching Eraser's shoulders. The boy scented his dad, smiling as he did so. They wandered around for a little, simply stretching out before going to the store. Izuku reached into his pocket and pulled out the little piece of plastic that allowed his Quick in public. Nezu, principle of U.A. High, helped him get it. Izuku couldn't turn his first form off for long, the energy too much to handle.

"Wanna fly?" Izuku asked, tilting his head.

"No. You go ahead, though. You look like you could use the stretch," Shouta declined, watching him take off from the sidewalk to float above him. His wingspan was at least four yards from wingtip to wingtip, powerful beats keeping Izuku afloat. He went soaring, leaving Shouta behind as he dipped and dived in the sky. A sky dragon indeed, Shouta thought.

Izuku, far above the city, narrowed his eyes at a torch. A fire? He dipped a little lower to get a good look, only to scoff at what he found. Endeavor in all his flaming glory, hero suit and all, was walking down the street, growling something under his breath at the young boy beside him. He had to be Izuku's age, his hair split down the middle. He was a little on the lean side, curling into himself whenever Enji raised his hand. Izuku knew what that meant and it made him blood boil.

He dived, a single, strong beat letting him land safely in front of the father and son.

"Endeavor," Izuku huffed. He was happy they were in front of the store his dad was heading to, giving him a reason to stop.

"The dragon brat. What do you want?" Izuku turned to the boy by his side, brows furrowed.

"Didn't know there was a younger one," he sniffed. "What happened to his brother?"

"Natsuo is at home, not that it's you business," Enji growled. "Move aside."

"What happened to Touya?" The boy furrowed his brows, confused. "I was little, but I remember him."

"None of your business, boy!" the number two growled, hand flexed to react.

"Who?" the boy asked, stepping in front of his father. "Who's Touya?"

Izuku growled low, eyes still on Enji. "I wonder."

"Izuku." He turned, still furious and hand shaking, as his dad called his name. "Enough. Sorry for any troubles, Endeavour." The flame hero huffed, striding past them, hand between the boy's shoulders to force him forward. Izuku rumbled in fury, eyes narrowed and never leaving Enji. Once they were out of earshot, Shouta whirled on him. "What were you thinking? One wrong move and he would have torched you or something."

"He's beating him," Izuku snapped before taking a calming breath. "He flinched every time Endeavour moved. There was a bruise on his collar. Dad, he's-" he looked around, paranoid. 'He's beating him. Probably for "training",' Izuku signed angrily.

"Let's go get some milk like we planned. I'll check it out, if it makes you feel better," Shouta promised, watching Izuku unwind like a spring.

'Thank you.'

"Whatever, Problem Child," Shouta huffed fondly entering the small store.

-0-

Touya?

Brows furrowed, Shouto Todoroki sat in his room, thinking. He had heard that name before, but couldn't place it. It had to be family, the boy with green hair and red eyes had said that. His first masterpiece, Shouto thought with a wrinkle of his nose. He looked out his bedroom window, narrowing his eyes at the darkness. Was it really that late? It was, his clock confirmed. Ten thirty-two at night, in fact.

A knock on his window made him jump, his Quirk icing his arm in preparation for a fight. He loosened when a familiar face peered through the window. He opened it, letting the dragon boy into his room. His wings and claws vanished, leaving only reptilian legs and faded scales on his forehead.

"It's you. What do you want?" Shouto asked, eyes sharp and brain whirring.

"I'm here to get you and your siblings out of here," the boy huffed and Shouto could almost see the wings flare up behind him. "He abuses you, doesn't he? That flaming bag of trash." Shouto blinked. He really shouldn't be surprised the boy who stood up to the number two hated him.

"Would you believe me if I said he did?" Shouto asked, whispering now. "Would anyone else believe you and I even if you did?" He was tense, shoulders squared and spine straight.

"I know a lot of heroes personally, Todoroki," the lizard growled, the low, terrifying sound echoing around Shouto's room. It rattled his bones and made him feel safe in this dragon's presence. "I will stop at nothing to get you freed."

"Why?" he asked, tone accusing. "Why are you so adamant to help me? We met for less than five minutes earlier today. You didn't even know I existed."

"I did," Izuku huffed. "I knew about you. His little Shouto." Shouto tensed, but the fire in those now-green eyes was intense and not aimed at him. "Papa was there at the get together last month. He took me." Shouto nodded, understanding. "I was in this situation once," Izuku admitted. "My mother before my house burnt to the ground. Whether it was a villain or her stupidity is up in the air." Izuku loosened, sagging. "I want to help."

"What's your name?" Shouto asked, curious. Maybe, just maybe, this could be his golden ticket.

"Izuku Aizawa," he responded. He held out a hand.

"Shouto Todoroki," Shouto huffed, taking the hand. "Thank you for this, Aizawa."

"Nope, call me Izuku. You'll get me, my brother, and Dad mixed up really quickly with that," Izuku chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. "I get to call you Shouto, because that last name of yours is stinky." Shouto blinked before he snorted, covering his mouth with wide eyes afterward. Izuku had to hold himself back from bursting into laughter. "I'm going to give you me and Dad's phone numbers. Dad is Eraserhead and he can help you a lot more than I can. I also might not answer for a while because I am so getting grounded for this."

"You're not supposed to be here?" Shouto questioned.

"Not supposed to be out this late period," Izuku corrected, stealing the boy's phone from him to input the contacts. "It's worth getting grounded, though. If you guys stay safe. He's an asshole and I'll get his licence for this." Shouto sighed, something wistful.

"I wish, but he's the number two hero and that wont happen." Izuku hummed, handing the phone back.

"Maybe not," Izuku agreed, "but I'll kill what little reputation he has. He wont get off light this time." He locked eyes with Shouto who watched breathlessly as they flashed a molten gold, power so old it rattled his insides. Izuku loosened, eyes going green before he flushed a bit. "Is it okay if I get your scent? I'll be able to find you practically anywhere, but the way I get it is a little... invasive."

"How so?" He rose a brow when Izuku flush got brighter.

"W-well, a humans scent... scent glad is... on their, um, neck. Und- under the ear," Izuku stuttered, motioning to the spot with a finger. "Since I'm a, uh, reptile..."

"You have to lick it because that's the best way to get it," Shouto finished, honestly amused by how red the other boy was. "Go ahead." If you said THE Shouto Todoroki had a pink tint to his cheeks, you are lying.

He offered Izuku his neck, closing his eyes. He could hear Izuku breath in and out deeply to calm rattled nerves. His tongue was very odd. It seemed a lot smoother than a humans (using his own as a comparison), but it wasn't cold like he thought it would be, reptiles being cold blooded and all. A quick swipe and the heat from Izuku's body and breath were gone. Shouto opened his eyes, catching Izuku swiping his tongue over his lips as his brows furrowed, rolling the taste in his mouth.

"Ironically," Izuku breathed, nose scrunching cutely, "you taste like Almond Joys and winter mint."

"An odd mix," Shouto chuckled.

"I like it," Izuku decided, nodding. "Good, I'll be able to find you. Thank you for trusting me, Shouto."

"Thank you for your help, Ai- um, Izuku."

With that, the dragon disappeared into the night via window.

-0-

Izuku, mid-air, felt something wrap around his ankle and force him to turn or go dive bombing. He circled, following the ribbon to a black figure in yellow goggles. Izuku groaned and landed on the rooftop.

"You're grounded."

"How'd you know it was me?" Izuku whined. "You could have snatched Hawks."

"You're wingspan is a lot bigger. Whichever boy you were seeing is getting a piece of my mind to."

"You don't know if it was a boy! Or if I was seeing anyone anyway! Or even what we were meeting about!" Izuku squawked, getting wrapped in Eraser's scarf. Izuku's phone went off and Shouta picked it out of his pockets, making Izuku whine pathetically.

'Did you get grounded? I'm sorry, Izuku.'

"Oh? So much for not meeting anyone," Shouta huffed, showing Izuku the text. "I'm going to murder you."

"I never said I didn't!" Izuku growled, still whining pathetically.

"Who?" Izuku sighed, knowing he had lost.

"Hey, Siri." The phone lit up in response. "Set new contact as Shouto."

"I'm going to kill you." Shouta's own phone beeped, making him pick it up and take a look.

'Please don't kill him, Eraser. It was my fault.'

"I'm going to throw you in a wood chipper."

"A wood chipper?"

The bland stare he got was answer enough.

-0-

'I blame you for this.' Shouto blinked, reading the name Aizawa up top (he couldn't put Eraser. Immediate red flag).

Bellow it was a picture. Izuku, tied up in Eraser's scarf, upsidedown and hanging from the ceiling, a nasty glare coming from narrowed, red eyes. Shouto couldn't help the snort that escaped. Feyumi peeked over his shoulder and read the text, giggling.

"Who's that?"

"A new friend. His dad got mad because he was out late," Shouto explained.

"Poor him," Feyumi laughed. "If you invite him for dinner, let me know. Or if you take him out for dinner." She cackled when he squeaked. "Stay safe, little brother!" she called, dodging when he swiped at her. "He looks like a wild one!" Shouto groaned, rubbing his hands down his face.

Why was his family like this? He peeked at the black screen on his phone, choking back more laughter. At least he was right-side up.

-0-

Shouto, on one of the rare days that his father was away with hero work and on the weekend, texted Izuku to meet him at a nearby park. He had made it first, sitting on a bench, watching the clouds go by. He had to cover his head when a gust of wind so strong it bent trees rocked the little park, two shadows and laughter floating on the ground. A pair of feathered wings and another of leather twirled around each other, poking at each other playfully. He stood, looking up to see Hawk, the number three hero, and Izuku playing around. Izuku looked down, grinning. He told Hawks something, who laughed, and bolted off to circle back.

"No. No, wait! Izuku!" Shouto yelled before he was picked up by his back and thighs. He clung to Izuku, shutting his eyes tightly. He could hear Izuku laughing, poking his thigh.

"Open your eyes, Shouto! Look!" He did as was asked, peeling open his eyes to see how high up they were. Hawks was right there, chuckling.

"Cool, huh?" Hawks asked, hovering in front of Izuku. "Too bad I don't got wings like Izuku. I can only lift one person, but he could probably pick up three."

"Liar," Izuku playfully accused, the hero acting offended. Shouto chuckled, but paused when Izuku split his face with an evil grin.

"Izuku, no."

"Izuku, yes!" They shot up again, climbing for above the clouds. Shouto marveled at it for all of three seconds before they started to fall backward. He screamed, high-pitched and panicked. Izuku was laughing the entire time, finally twirling and catching air in his wings. Shouto was clinging to him, breath ragged. Izuku chuckled, scenting Shouto with his cheek. "All smooth from here, promise."

"Liar," Hawks mocked, tapping wings with the younger flyer. "You going to your place?"

"Yeah, before Shouto has a stroke," Izuku huffed, rolling his eyes. Shouto pried his open, glaring at Izuku. "Wouldn't eye me like that, Canadian flag. I'm the one keeping you from going splat."

"I hate you. So much," Shouto growled, shoving his face into Izuku's neck.

"Sounds like the date is going well. Good luck, kids!" Hawks cackled as he flew off. Izuku faltered for a moment, making Shouto tense again.

"I'm gonna kill him," Izuku muttered under his breath. Shouto laughed, cool breath making Izuku shiver. "We're here, your highness." Shouto snorted, wobbling when he was set on solid ground. He sat for a moment, grounding himself on the sideway leading up to a white house. A snort drew his attention to a purple-haired boy with eye bags the size of Japan. A flare of jealousy welled in his chest, unbidden.

"Hito!" Izuku whined. "Don't make fun of Shouto!"

"So this is your boyfriend," this 'Hito' looked him up and down before raising a brow. "I approve." Izuku made a dying sound, Shouto blinking innocently where he sat, confused.

"This is Hitoshi, my brother," Izuku explained. "This is Shouto Todoroki."

"Number two's kid, right? Must suck, your dad's an ass," Hitoshi huffed. "Come on in. Dad is sleeping and Papa is out."

The home was so... normal. So homey and Shouto couldn't help but envy it. Cats weaved through his legs before rubbing on his left side. Izuku chuckled, picking up Eraser to cuddle to his chest.

"You don't deactivate you Quirk?" Shouto asked softly, trying not to wake the sleeping hero.

"Cant. Not really," Izuku responded. "I store energy and it overwhelms me. I almost need to almost constantly be in this form." Shouto wrinkled his nose.

"What happens then?"

"I explode." Shouto's eyes went wide. "Figuratively. I've been working on my second form, but it's really hard to control. I could show you, but we have to go outside. Follow me." They went out a back door to a concrete patio. Izuku motioned for him to wait by the door, moving to the center of the large slab. He rolled his shoulders, his scales hitting the light to make him look like he was lit aflame. His wings folded in and the claws on his hands retracted before Izuku shucked his shirt.

Muscles twitched in the light, Hitoshi coming up beside Shouto and wolf whistling. Izuku gave him the bird, signing something offensive if Hitoshi's face said anything, before closing his eyes. His scales shifted, some that were so faint they were invisible before showing up as the others turned sea blue. They came up his sides, running along the lines of his abs and pecks. He seemed to buff a little, blue magma making his veins visible. His eyes turned the same shade of blue as his scales, black horns reached upward, making a lire shape. His fangs were still sharp when he smiled, pumping the air very slowly.

"I did it," he cheered.

"Why are you moving so slow?" Shouto asked, tilting his head.

"Think of All Might," Hitoshi supplied. "He's so strong, if he moves fast, he'll blow the house away. He's been practicing, but he doesn't know how to limit it yet."

"That and bones are stupid," Izuku huffed, putting his arm down slowly. "I've broke a lot trying to get this form under control."

"You cant fly," Shouto pointed out as Izuku flicked back to his red draconic form.

"I can jump so high, that doesn't matter," Izuku shrugged.

"Why is he here?"

"Sup, Dad," Hitoshi drawled casually. Shouto started sweating. "Shouto was just chilling here after Izuku gave him a heart attack in the form of flying."

"You all bully me," Izuku huffed. "Flying with me is not that bad."

"I don't mind it," Hitoshi offered, hands up, "but your boyfriend looked like he was going to scream and puke at the same time."

"Boyfriend?" Shouta growled, eyes going red.

"NOT REALLY," Shouto and Izuku denied quickly. "People just keep saying that. We're not!" Izuku continued, groaning.

"You have a tail," Shouto obseved, pointing at the extra appendage.

"Yep," Izuku nodded, the tail wiggling a little bit. "Helps with balance in the air and on the ground. Grabbing stuff to, I guess." Hitoshi elbowed Shouto and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, Izuku sputtering and Shouto simply going red and melting into himself.

"None of that in my house," Shouta called from the kitchen, getting a cup of black coffee. "EVER."

"Not in front of the cats," Hitoshi agreed. "Or in front of my salad."

"Why salad?" Shouto asked, confused. Hitoshi stared at him, something like pity in those purple eyes.

"You poor, sweet summer child," Hitoshi sighed. "We must teach you the ways." Shouto suddenly felt like he was in danger.

-0-

"Aaaaaaaand were here!" Izuku announced, landing in front of Shouto's home. Shouto was plopped back onto his feet, holding onto Izuku as he regained equilibrium. Feyumi opened the door, looking for the source of the noise.

"Oh," she hummed, "you must be Izuku. Hello, I'm Feyumi Todoroki." Izuku smiled at her, letting go of Shouto when he could stand again.

"Izuku Aizawa, nice to meet you," he responded, spreading his wings and bowing, tilting his wings forward. She giggled at him, ruffling his fluffy hair. Izuku purred, leaning into her hand. Shouto blinked before he proceeded to run his nails gently over Izuku's skull, watching him practically melting.

"Awe! He's adorable. I approve," Feyumi joked. Shouto groaned, Izuku standing up straight and laughing at him.

"Alright, I gotta go before it gets too late," Izuku huffed, looking at the orange and purple sky.

"Bye, Izuku," Shouto called, waving.

"See you soon, Shouto! Bye, Feyumi!"

"Byyyyyyyyyyye," Feyumi called, waving happily. She turned to Shouto with a smirk and he groaned. "How was your date? Tell me everything!"

-0-

Izuku stretched, elongated tongue rolling out of his mouth as he yawned. Hitoshi, next to him, yawned, waving his arms as if to stave it off. "Ew, I caught a yawn."

"Shut up," Izuku griped, plopping on the couch next to his brother. "I'm so sleepy. Hitoshi~ I'm tired."

"You? Tired? The world is ending," Hitoshi deadpanned.

"Exactly," Shouta huffed. "He never runs out of energy. Him being tired is like us at full throttle." Izuku, who was leaning on fist, elbow on the arm of the couch, was asleep, sun raining in from the window. "That's why. Your a lizard and you've been soaking in sun all summer," Shouta snorted. "You warm so you're sleepy." Izuku hummed distractedly.

"We should throw him in the fridge," Hitoshi cackled. "He'll be awake then."

"Shut your nuggets, Hito," Izuku huffed, eyes closed and body limp.

"Shut my... huh? You know what'll wake him up? I'm hacking your phone and posting all the pictures you got of you and your boyfriend."

"Shouto needs to be recognized," Izuku chuckled. "Mine. Hoard. Family."

"Oh no, he's regressing. Cavemen speak," Hitoshi laughed as Izuku flicked him off. He was slapped in the back of the head by his dad, making him whine.

"Shouldn't the two of you, I don't know, train? You're planning on U.A. in three years, right?" Shouta questioned, eyebrow raised. The door swung open and a very tired Presentation Microphone trudged through the entrance. "Rough day?" He got a groan in response, making them wince.

"We'll go spar, then. You deal with Pops," Hitoshi offered, grabbing Izuku by his white crop-top and making their way to the back. The two took out the sparing mats and set them up, squaring up to each other. "On three?"

"Sure. One."

"Two."

Izuku lunged, lashing out with a leg and nailing Hitoshi in the chest, laughing out a "Three." He flipped, landing on his feet as he paused to catch his breath. Izuku let him, knowing that was a dirty shot.

"Fucking cheater," Hitoshi wheezed, Izuku cackling.

"I said three," he defended. "Up and at 'em, Hito." Izuku took a boxers stance, the one he found most comfortable. Left defending his chest and right tensed to lash out.

"What are you two doing?" Izuku looked over to see who was speaking, a smile on his face before it met a pair of boney knuckles.

"Bitch," Hitoshi growled, satisfied grin on his face. He turned and waved. "Hey, Shouto." He squawked when Izuku pounced, catching his wrist and digging his claws into the concrete to hold him there. He trapped his legs with his calves, making sure not to slice him with his talons.

"Bitch," Izuku called back, chuckling. "I win." He stood, offering Hitoshi a hand and hoisting him up. "Pops had a rough day so we let Dad deal with him. Sup, Sho."

"Just came to say hi. They let Mom out of the hospital this week and said she was clarence to watch us when she can with Feyumi's supervision. She's doing a lot better now that the flaming trashbag can get within fifty feet."

"Nice," the brothers responded. "I'd like to meet her sometime. Over tea or something," Izuku smiled, soft and happy as he scented Shouto.

"Get approval to marry you," Hitoshi joked, making Izuku choke. "Have y'all started dating yet?"

"Mom said it could be my present after I get into U.A.," Shouto chuckled. Izuku blinked, wide-eyed. "I need to focus, she said, so I should work hard before then." He shrugged, "then she gave me dating tips, so I'm getting mixed signals."

"Holy lord," Hitoshi groaned. "Ask each other out already. I'm dying from the pinning."

"He says," Izuku laughed, hitting Shouto's arm playfully. "We were at the store the other day," Shouto watched Hitoshi turn an odd shade of pink, "and this blonde with a black bolt in his hair asked him if he knew were the soy sauce was. He lit up pink," Izuku motioned to the very pink Hitoshi, "and said 'I'm gay' with a straight face. Oh, my Kami, I had to learn how to breath again before I told him isle four." Izuku cackled. "His pink- literally, she was bright pink- friend was sitting there dying and another, black-haired boy with red eyes found us and said he found the soy and looked really lost. The blonde was catatonic."

"Awe," Shouto cooed. "Love at first sight."

"It was so embarrassing," Hitoshi whined, "but he's was so pretty! He had golden eyes, Izuku. Gold."

"And you have white pupils," Izuku stated. "And I have green, blue, red, AND gold eyes. Get on my level, hoe."

"Mine don't match," Shouto threw in, chuckling. "Mine's bigger."

"No. I'm a hundred percent sure that title goes to Izuku," Hitoshi disagreed, making Shouto choke. He blinked at the purplette with raised brows. "We used to bathe together all the time because Izuku had abandonment issues."

"That, and my mother tried to drown me in a tub once so I didn't trust the water," Izuku shrugged. "I have to agree with Hito on this one, Sho."

"Why are we talking about this?" Shouto groaned, beat red.

"You started it," Hitoshi laughed. "Why don't you two spar? Izuku, make sure to land on top. I'm not having a bottom for a brother."

"You just don't want the competition," Izuku teased, pulling Shouto to the ring. "Come on, Sho. No Quirks." He released his draconic form, bouncing on the balls of his feet to get used to not having his tail. "One. Two. Three!" Izuku lunged, aiming a fist at Shouto's face. The other dodged, lashing out with his foot to catch Izuku's side. With strong legs, Izuku hopped over it and set a kick for Shouto's head. It caught his shoulder, but Shouto let it turn him sideways and kicked out, Izuku unable to dodge mid-air.

Izuku took the hit, twirling to land on his feet. He kicked off, aiming a series of punches at Shouto's chest. He dodged most of them, but the last one drilled him right in the diaphragm, making him stumble. Izuku swept at his feet, knocking Shouto down before he pounced and captured him like he did Hitoshi. Izuku laughed, Shouto pouting at the loss.

"Don't worry, Sho," Izuku hummed, licking right under his ear like he had done the first day they met, "I'll be gentle."

"Ew. Get off," Shouto deadpanned. Izuku laughed, nuzzling his neck before standing up and pulling Shouto with him. Hitoshi threw a fist in the air with a very dead 'yay', making them both laugh. "No competition, then?"

"He's got you," Izuku teased, nuzzling his neck again. "Anyway. Who's next?"

"Me and Shouto. Hither, child," Hitoshi summoned, dragging the boy away. Izuku cheered them on, but in the end, Shouto had weight on his side and pinned Hitoshi. Izuku's enthusiastic call of 'That's gay!' set them into a laughing fit, Shouto rolling of Hitoshi when his arms started getting weak. The changed up, Izuku only loosing to Shouto once and Hitoshi twice ("You cheated!" "Shouto is a nice distraction. Sorry, not sorry."). Shouto and Hitoshi were pretty even, mostly because they kept losing to Izuku. They both ganged up on him at the end, rolling around on the grass.

"Lunch, brats!" Shouta called, not closing the door as he went back to the kitchen. They all heeded, eating some sandwiches and their preferred beverages (Izuku: milk. Hitoshi: orange juice. Shouto: water. "You're boring." "No, I'm hydrated.") before Tenya had busted through the door, greeted them all stiffly, and pulled out a batch of chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies that, no doubt, he and his brother made.

"You're here, why?" Shouta asked, narrowing his dark eyes at Tenya, who stiffened.

"I thought Tensei informed you," he responded, confused.

"His parents are on vacation and Tensei had a weird shift so he asked if Tenya could hang with the boys," Hizashi called from the bedroom.

"That'd be nice to know," Shouta called back, shaking his head and taking a sip of black coffee. "Duffus."

"We can go get ice cream," Hitoshi offered, pointing to the front door. He looked down at his training clothes. "After me, Izuku, and Shouto change and maybe shower. We're all sweaty."

"From what?" Tenya asked, eyeing them wearily.

"Fucking," Hitoshi and Izuku answered, getting slaps from Eraser's capture weapon.

"We were sparing," Shouto explained, chuckling at Tenya's shocked face. "I call shower first." They all took turns, Hitoshi in a black tank-top and jeans, Izuku in a red crop-top and shorts, and Shouto in a white tee and jeans from Izuku's drawer that he kept for such occasions. Tenya had a drawer in Hitoshi's room.

They made their way out (after Izuku grabbed his wallet because he was he only one with his own money. He did odd jobs around town) and went to their favorite ice cream booth. The waved to the owner, paid for a vanilla milkshake with carmel syrup, a mint chocolate chip waffle cone, a strawberry bowl, and a superman cone. They walked around the park, happily eating ice cream when a shriek broke the mood.

"Stay away!" a woman shouted, obviously stressed. Izuku blinked and offered Shouto his cup.

"Hold my milkshake." He took off, looking around before he saw a man aiming a knife at a cornered woman, shielding the baby in her arms with her body. He dived, snatching up the man's arms and crashing into the ground hard enough for his head to make a nice 'thunk' on the ground. Disoriented, but not in any danger. Izuku nodded to himself. "Threatening a woman is disgusting, man," Izuku huffed, taking the knife from him. "Threatening a baby is the lowest." Izuku snorted. "Wonder what happens when you do both."

"You get put in jail," Hitoshi snorted, arriving with the rest of their crew. Shouto handed Izuku back his shake, he sucked on it sarcastically as the villain came to. "Naomasa is on his way with a squad car."

"It doesn't surprise me that you are on a first name basis with the lead detective," Tenya chuckled. "With how much trouble Izuku runs into."

"Yep. That and Endeavwhore," Shouto chuckled.

"I normally don't condone such language," Tenya sniffed, pushing up his glasses with his finger, "but that is very accurate." Shouto laughed, a sound that has become more frequent now that his father is gone from his life.

"I would pay big money to hear Tenya call Endeavour a fuck stick. Big money," Hitoshi cackled. Izuku was cooing mockingly at the man struggling beneath him, laughing when he heated the skin under Izuku's feet. "He's fire proof. No heat can get to him. Unless you're the sun. That makes him sleepy."

"I'm just really OP," Izuku huffed, waving at the detective and the two officers that approached.

"You got that right," Naomasa grouched, running a hand through short, black hair. "You're always running into trouble, we have to balance it with something."

"Oh, ha ha, Nao," Izuku mocked. "He can heat his skin. Probably enough to melt handcuffs." The officers held up Quirk suppressing cuffs. "That'll do. An odd flex and a little kinky. You're not my type, sorry, officer." Izuku sucked on his straw, blinking at the officer who only rolled his eyes. They took the man away and

"Yeah, his type is Canadian flags and peppermint sticks," Hitoshi cackled.

"That's gay," Tenya deadpanned.

"As the only straight person, you don't get to make that joke," Izuku huffed.

"I'm straight," Naomasa grouched.

"Bitch, if your straight, I'm a flamingo," Izuku sniffed. "You and that tall blonde you're talking to all the time. Don't think I don't see that."

"Toshi? What's he gotta do with anything?" Naomasa countered, one of the officers chuckling behind him.

"Y'all even got pet names," Izuku cooed. "Invite me to the wedding, Nao." Naomasa just threw his hands up. "Your Quirk will tell you real quick if your lying to yourself!"

"Doesn't work that way," Naomasa groaned.

"Naomasa is straight."

False.

Naomasa blinked. "What the hell."

"Told you. Don't argue with me. My gaydar is a hundred percent accurate. You, sir, are a bisexual," Izuku cackled. Hitoshi was on the ground by now, forgetting how to breathe. The woman had already finished telling the other officer her story and was giggling at the boys. Tenya looked exasperated beyond mortal comprehension and Shouto was eyeing him fondly.

Naomasa, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, groaned and hopped into the police car, in the back as the other officer took the front seat.

"Is he always like that?" the man in the handcuffs asked, eyeing the soon-to-be teens. Naomasa sighed out his exasperation.

"Yes. Always."

-0-

"We cant let you go anywhere," Hizashi laughed as they retold the story at dinner, Shouto and Tenya already at home for the day.

"I'm crying," Hitoshi wheezed, wiping imaginary tears. "You gave that poor man an identity crisis and I'm not sure if he's mad about it or not."

-0-

Izuku looked up at the tall, intimidating building and huffed. Today was the day of exams, but he and Shouto had gotten in on recommendation along with Hitoshi and another girl that he couldn't quite remember the name of. Shouto's father had recommended him (much to their surprise) and Hitoshi had gotten Shouta's and Izuku got Hizashi's. Tenya wanted to take the exam, so he would be in the crowd at U.A. Izuku was here to watch, really. Nezu had asked him to scout the stadiums to make sure no one died (not that it has ever happened before. Nezu just wanted him to do scouting now and write a report later, the bastard).

Izuku noticed a certain blonde and grinned.

"Hey, Kami. Isn't that the dude who was with your lover boy?" the pink girl teased, point at Izuku, who was crouched on a lamp post. Izuku's grin widened. He hopped down, spooking some people who hadn't seen him.

"Hey, it's you three. Didn't catch your names."

"Denki Kaminari," the blonde offered, a little pink.

"Mina Ashido."

"Eijiro Kirishima."

"Izuku Aizawa. Nice to meet you," he offered back. He turned to Kaminari, cackling. "His face, oh, my god. It is the biggest joke in my house." He grinned, baring fangs. "You want his name, though? Make it into the hero course and I'll tell you."

"Your applying?" Kirishima asked, smiling with a mouth full of shark teeth.

"We got in on recommend." He bared his claws, glistening in the light. "In other words, they nurfed me and my brother cant do robots so Nezu let him in."

"Nezu? As in, the principle?" Ashido asked, stunned. Izuku nodded.

"Yeps. Since our parents work here, we know him pretty well." Izuku started moving to the building, the others following obediently. "Bro's Quirk doesn't work on robots but is super awesome, so Dad got him a recomendation."

"Ah," Ashido nodded in understanding. "I get that. So it is robots. Good. We should all be golden, then." They made it to the auditorium, Izuku humming before perching on the back of Kaminari's chair, making it squeak a little. "If you got recommended, how come you're here?"

"To make sure you don't die," Izuku grinned, fangs flashing as the lights dimmed and a spotlight landed on Present Mic. He greeted everyone, talked through the loops that they were going to jump through and what the info on their cards meant.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAND, just to help you feel comfortable, we got our own, personal, flying reptile to make sure no one gets thrashed to bad!" Present Mic announced, pointing to the back of the auditorium. Another spotlight came on, flooding Izuku with light. He flared his wings dramatically, still on the back of Kaminari's seat. "He's going to be zooming through the test sites so be on the lookout for him! Please don't aim any spears or pitchforks at the hired help!"

"Pfffft. Hired help," Izuku chuckled, loud enough for everyone to hear. "As if I get paid for this."

"You're not?" Hizashi blinked.

"Not that I'm aware," Izuku shrugged. "Don't know if that makes y'all feel safer or not, knowing I'm doing this out of the goodness in my heart." He got a bit of laughter, but he caught a few paling. Izuku cackled.

"Anyway, listeners! Time to head to the busses!"

Everyone filed out, Mina pouting because she was on a different bus than the boys. Izuku whispered something, getting energetic nodding in return. The boys' eyes bugged out when he retracted his claws, picked her up bridal style, and took off once they were outside.

"The dragon and the princess," someone said, making everyone laugh. "Was that his girlfriend or something?"

"Nope," Kaminari popped the 'p'. They just officially met today and for, like, three seconds at the store."

"And I'm pretty sure he's gay," Kirishima piped up. "I very rarely see straight men in crop tops."

-0-

Izuku crouched on the wall, grinning down at Tenya. He signed, not wanting to out Hitoshi out loud, having seen the blonde and the redhead in the same group. 'Found Hito's cutie.'

'I've noticed,' Tenya signed back, chuckling. Izuku stretched, wings spread and claws out.

"Good luck, examines!" he called, taking off. They all looked very uneasy, Izuku cackling like a madman. With that, his papa called the start, the machines already wandering around and causing destruction. He shifted from place to place, monitoring the different sites with the teachers in his ear making comments about students and if anyone was in trouble they couldn't get out of. He noticed a familiar face in a blonde with red eyes, explosions echoing from his palms. He didn't notice the dragon in his quest to murder everything, so Izuku let him be.

Ashido was going well, melting people with acid. Kirishima was plowing them with his hardening Quirk, and Kaminari was zapping the bots before going dumb, but Kirishima was there helping his friend not get murdered by robots. It was when the ground rumbled that everyone started to panic. Izuku landed on a building, watching in amusement and a little disappointment as everyone ran.

"Help!" Izuku snapped to the noise, a brown-haired girl who had been trapped under some rubble. Everyone was still running away, not moving to her. Tenya moved to help, but couldn't lift the rubble. Izuku flew down and grabbed the top boulder with his claws, hands and feet, and lifted the rock up. Tenya lifted the girl up and ran away from the zero pointer. Izuku let the rock fall back into place and spoke into the ear piece.

"Anyone else?" he asked, flying up and hovering for a moment.

'Everyone else got away, it looks like,' Nezu spoke up, an obvious smile in his voice. 'Good job, Dracon.'

"Should I expect the order for an essay?" he chuckled, landing and finding Tenya and the girl he saved. Her ankle was broken, swollen and bleeding. Tenya rose a brow and Izuku signed 'Nezu' to satisfy his curiosity.

'Of course.' Izuku snorted, shaking his head as the line went quiet. Mic called the exam, letting Izuku rest.

"Your ankle is broken, but you'll be alright. We have Recovery Girl on standby to help with injuries," Izuku informed, giving her a kind smile.

"Thanks," she hummed, nose wrinkled in pain. She turned to Tenya, "and thank you both for saving me."

"As a hero should," Tenya nodded, chopping a hand. "I am disappointed in our fellow examines, however. No one turned to help."

"Yeah," Izuku agreed, huffing. "Even with the giant hunk of junk in the way."

"Are you a hero?" the girl asked, curious.

"Nope," Izuku chuckled. "I have clarence to use my Quirk, though, because of some circumstances. I'm just an extra line so no one got hurt. I've known the staff here for a while. I'm Izuku Aizawa, by the way. This is Tenya Iida."

"Ah, yes. How rude of me to not introduce myself," Tenya huffed. "Your name, miss?"

"Ochako Uraraka," she informed, confused when Izuku waved someone over. Recovery Girl, an older lady with a white coat and a syringe for a cane, came over with a tut.

"Here I thought you were better than that," she teased, hitting Izuku's shin lightly with her cane. Izuku laughed, waving off his claws and rubbing the back of his neck.

"She broke her ankle in the rubble. It looks clean, but I could be wrong," he informed. Recovery Girl looked it over, nodding.

"Yes, you're right. You would know all about broken bones, wouldn't you, Izuku?"

"Meanie," he whined, dodging a hit to the shins. Recovery Girl rolled her eyes and kissed Uraraka on the cheek, her ankle healing nicely. Uraraka yawned, accepting the energy gummies. "You know what we need? To syphon my energy to make those. Maybe then I could sleep on my back."

"If only," Tenya sighed. "Maybe we can get your quips under control."

"Me? Not make gay jokes? Please," Izuku huffed as Recovery Girl left to see to other examines. "You just cant appreciate them with your straightness."

"As a bisexual, I stand by that," Uraraka giggled, standing up and wobbling slightly. Izuku caught her and held her until she could stand on her own. Izuku raised a brow at Tenya, who simply rolled his eyes. Izuku walked with them outside, fidgeting as he went. Hands flexing, eyes unfocused.

"You okay?" Tenya asked, brushing Izuku's arm. Izuku jumped, flinching.

'Sorry,' he signed. 'Weird energy. Cant sit still.' Tenya nodded, eyes widening as Izuku shifted into his second form. Obelisk with its blue scales and horns gave of an aura of strength.

"Woah," Uraraka awed. "Cool." Izuku laughed, voice deep and strong.

"Yep, except moving my pinky wrong will level a building," he huffed. "I've gotten a lot more practice, but I wouldn't use this form indoors. Ever."

"Why are you in it now?" Uraraka asked.

"Extra energy," Tenya answered. "His body stores energy to help with the shifting. Unfortunately, it makes too much and Izuku sometimes cant handle it. He switches to burn it off."

"Honestly, I burn more energy holding myself back." He huffed at the bus, waving at the driver. "Ew. Transportation. You sure you don't wanna fly back, Tenya?"

"With you? No," Tenya deadpanned. Uraraka giggled, watching Tenya get on the bus. Izuku's shocked and hurt face made her laugh.

"I'll go with you," she offered. "I'm still a little shaken from my Quirk and me and motor vehicles don't get along." Izuku nodded, growing his wings as he powered down and hoisting her up in a princess carry. He took off, making sure to stay stable so she didn't get sick. She cheered, laughing as they flew.

"Don't get sick on me," Izuku laughed. "I'm a sympathy puker and I'm the one keeping us from dying." Uraraka was holding her ribs with one arm and the other around Izuku's neck.

"No, I feel really good right now," she assured. "The cold air is helping." Izuku chuckled, landing in the parking lot where the buses would be dropping people off.

"This is where the buses are coming, so they'll be here in a minute. If you're waiting for someone, it would be here," Izuku informed. She shrugged.

"Not anyone in particular. Do we get to leave?"

"Yep," Izuku nodded. "You'll get your results in a week, give or take a few days." Uraraka hummed and waved as she left. Izuku waved bye as the buses pulled up and let the to-be students off. Izuku found Tenya with Kaminari and Kirishima, laughing about something. Mina found them next, giggling and cheery.

"I so passed," she cheered. "This is going to be so cool!"

"Unless you get Dad as your homeroom," Izuku laughed. "Then you might not make it past the first day."

"Isn't the first day orientation?" Kirishima asked, head tilted like a puppy.

"Izuku?"

He turned, eyeing the blonde with red eyes cautiously. He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head as if the different angle would jog his memory. "Um... you're familiar..."

"Katsuki Bakugo," the blonde introduced. Izuku's eyes widened, a smile on his face.

"Kacchan!" He tackled the blonde, purring loudly. "It's been forever!"

"You're a dragon," he said blankly. "The fuck."

"Stress activated it," Izuku explained, helping Katsuki up. "A burning building does that to you."

"I heard about that. Inko died." Izuku huffed, a growl low in his throat.

"Good riddance." Katsuki balked at that.

"What do you mean, nerd? Auntie-"

"Abused me for two years? Probably set the house on fire herself? She sure did," Izuku snapped. "I have no remorse for that woman." Katsuki was silent, but he handed Izuku his phone. Izuku put his information in and texted himself so he had Katsuki's.

"Mom misses you," Katsuki informed, mellowed. Izuku smiled sadly.

"Yeah and Uncle Masaru. Tell them I said hi and that I'll come visit sometime." Katuski nodded, walking off to start heading home.

"Woah. Deep."

Izuku snorted, turning to Kaminari, "whatever you say, short circuit."

"You seem really happy," Ashido commented. "I'm glad you're in a better situation."

"With Dad and Papa and my brother," Izuku assured, winking at Kaminari. "Hope you brought your A-game, Kami. He's a tough switch to control." Kaminari whined.

"Why you like this?" he groaned. "Why cant you just give me his digits or something?"

"That's too easy," Izuku cackled. "See you in class!"

-0-

Slifer the Sky Dragon/Osiris {Oshirisu no Tenkuryu}- Male, red serpent with two mouths and wings. destroys three monsters per attack. Opponent loses 2000 atk or def depending on mode.

Obelisk the Tormentor {Oshirisu no Kyoshinhei}- Tribute 2 monsters to destroy all opponents.

Winged Dragon of Ra {Ra no Yokushinryu}- 3 monsters must be used to summon ra. Can sacrifice all but one life point to ra. Continue to sacrifice monsters to boost attack and defense.

"Great beast of the sky, please hear my cry. Transform thyself from the orb of light and bring me victory in this fight. Envelop the desert with your glow and cast your rage upon my foe. Unlock your powers from deep within so that together we may win. Appear in this Shadow Game as I call out your name!"


End file.
